


The Signal

by Romiress



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - World War II, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Grief/Mourning, Kryptonian Culture & Customs, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Batman Bruce Wayne, non-human anatomy, which becomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 69,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: The year is 1940, and the world is slowly erupting into all-out war. Safe at Wayne Manor, and unable to affect any larger change, Bruce Wayne is desperate to help in any way he can.He just doesn't expect it to involve racing Nazis through the heart of Europe to find the origin of a mysterious signal that could change the course of the war.---Written for theSuperBat Reverse Bang, withartby @Santheum.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 38
Kudos: 165
Collections: Superbat Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Santheum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santheum/gifts).



War is coming.

Bruce has known it was coming for years, like watching the sun break over the horizon bit by bit. It's a dawn that's taking years, and sitting around in Gotham waiting for the sun to finally rise is excruciating.

He wants to _do_ something. He tries. He writes letters to his friends overseas, those he can still remain in contact with, and gathers what details he can. He campaigns, encouraging the government to act.

But the overall sentiment is overwhelming: Americans are tired of war. They don't want to go overseas, to fight and die in a place so far from their homes. It seems like nothing will convince them that some wars need to be fought.

So all Bruce can do is sit and wait for the war to finally go too far. For someone to cross the line at last and force their hand.

When he comes home late one evening to find a car parked in the driveway, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. The fact that they've been let in the gates at all means they're a friend, but with the state of the world as it is Bruce isn't exactly expecting any visitors.

Alfred gets the door for him, and Bruce removes his coat with caution, watching Alfred for signs of distress. There aren't any, although he does seem more serious than usual.

"You have a guest," Alfred says as he takes Bruce's coat.

"Someone I know?"

"Someone _I_ know," Alfred says. "An old friend from overseas."

There are a lot of implications in that, considering travel is so limited lately. Alfred speaks of his friends in England regularly, but he's never mentioned the possibility of one of them visiting.

He finds the guest in the portrait hall, staring up at the paintings of Waynes long past. He's an older man, right around Alfred's age, his hair and beard gone grey with the years. There's a sprinkle of black in it that makes Bruce think he might actually not be as old as he looks, but he's more focused on the severity of his features, all sharp angles only barely hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses. He's in a suit, with his jacket folded over his arm, which tells Bruce he isn't planning on staying. If he was, Alfred would certainly have taken it from him.

Most importantly, he has a manila folder held in one hand.

The folder promises things, even if Bruce doesn't know precisely what.

Bruce clears his throat politely, drawing the man's attention, and then holds his hand out for a shake.

"Bruce Wayne," he says. "And you are?"

"My name isn't particularly important at this juncture," the man says, but he takes Bruce's hand anyway. "Officially, I'm not here. _Officially_ , nothing pertaining to this meeting has ever happened..."

Bruce wants to ask who _does_ know about the meeting, but decides to hold his tongue.

"What matters," the man continues, "is that I'm a friend of Alfred's from years ago. He saved my life in the Great War, and I owe him a great deal. I also put great value on his opinions. When I spoke to him about the issue we're facing, he suggested you might be willing to help, and your position in society has a unique advantage for this _particular_ task."

Bruce swears he can taste lightning on his tongue, like the spark that comes before the storm. It's excitement and desperation, because everything about a secret, off the records meeting is what he's been waiting for. The fact that they know Alfred means they're probably from the United Kingdom's military, or maybe just their government in general, but that's far from a sure thing, the man's accent mixed and hard to place.

"I understand you've been encouraging the American government to act."

"The situation overseas isn't one we can ignore," Bruce says. "Terrible things are happening, and if we wait until the German war machine has rolled over Europe, when they come for us we'll have no allies left standing."

"You're a wise man, Mr. Wayne. Those of us overseas have the same opinion: that America is risking its own destruction by sitting out. But that isn't what I'm here to talk to you about."

Oh. Bruce's heart sinks, and he tries not to show it on his face.

"I'm here because the Allies have been put in an untenable position, and we're hoping you'll be able to help."

"Officially—"

"There's nothing official about this," the man says immediately. "Officially, as I said, this conversation isn't happening. That's why we're willing to risk it at all. Because you're wealthy enough and unknown enough overseas that if you claimed that you had come to the continent for a ski vacation, someone might actually believe you."

Bruce isn't quite sure about _that,_ but he gets the idea. He was chosen _because_ America is neutral, not in spite of it.

"Why don't we sit down."

They do, finding seats in the parlor, and Bruce fetches the cigars only to have them denied. The man's brought his own, and he lights it, settling back in his seat, the folder on his lap.

"Let me explain from the beginning. We know, and have known, that the Germans are seeking anything that might potentially give them an advantage. For the most part, they don't seem to have found anything that we need to be concerned about. That, however, has changed."

He flips open the folder, retrieving a single sheet of paper, and then holds it out for Bruce to take.

To the average person Bruce is sure it appears as nothing, but Bruce is familiar enough to recognize it for what it is; someone is broadcasting a radio signal, but at a much lower frequency than Bruce is used to. The signal also seems unusually strong, but otherwise unnotable. He looks it over briefly, his eyes flicking up to the man for an explanation.

"Something is broadcasting from the Austrian mountains," the man explains. "We have no idea what it is, or where it is. But we have reports that the Nazis have been moving everything they've looted into Austria, in the direction of Altaussee. It's possible that the two things are connected."

"This seems like a lot for just a signal," Bruce points out.

They have no idea what it is, so risking an American infiltrating Austria (assuming that's what they want him to do) seems like a monumentally poor decision.

The man shakes his head, tapping the sheet.

"You misunderstand," he says. "This isn't a record smuggled out from Austria. This is a record of us picking up the signal in _London."_

Bruce's eyebrows shoot up, unable to hide his surprise. Broadcasting all the way from Austria to London and still being so strong seems absurd.

"Regardless of _why_ it's being broadcast, the fact is that this kind of broadcast strength could be a boon for the Allies... or a boost to the Nazis. We haven't been able to decode it, meaning this might be some kind of... new Nazi signal."

"Or?"

"Or it might not be from the Nazis at all," the man admits. "That's our primary suspicion right now. The signal only started a week ago, and it's been slowly increasing in strength. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd be able to detect it all the way over here."

That seems hard to believe, but it's also something Bruce can check when he has some time.

Assuming he'll even _have_ time.

"And you want me to... infiltrate Austria and investigate?"

"We want you to visit _Switzerland,"_ the man clarifies. "Take some readings there, and report back. It would be seen as violating Switzerland's neutrality if the Allies sent anyone there, and as America has not yet entered the war, you don't qualify. We have people taking readings all across the continent as we try and narrow the search area."

Bruce can't decide if he's only willing to tell him to do that because it isn't risky, or because he _actually_ doesn't want to risk Bruce heading into Austria. Still, Bruce has already decided to play it by ear, and he's running through plans as he does. He has friends in Switzerland he could visit. It would be unusual, but not unheard of. He'd have to pack light if he did that, but...

Well, he has been meaning to climb the Matterhorn.

"How would I contact you?" Bruce asks, a plan coming together in his head.

"Alfred knows how to get into contact with me," the man says. "But if you were contacting me from the continent..." He fishes into the folder, producing a small slip of paper. "A friend of mine who would be willing to pass any information on you seek to relay."

"They can be trusted?"

"Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't have given you their contact information."

Bruce doesn't say yes or no, never actually agreeing to the request. But his mind's already made up. He knows what to expect, and he knows, more than anything else, that he's needed. This is his chance to make a difference. This is his chance to help.

And that's all he really wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, Bruce descends into Switzerland for a mountaineering trip.

He's playing the part he's so rarely played of late, that of a rich and obviously ignorant member of the upper crust. He doesn't hesitate to brag about his past mountaineering exploits (true, although he's sure that most don't think they are), and makes several implications he's going to be heading out west to climb the Matterhorn. There are elite clubs in the Zürich, the country's effective capital city, and even with war all around them, they continue to operate, milking money out of any tourists stupid enough to be traveling the continent with a war on. 

He lets himself be one of them. He has money to spare, and spare it he does, dropping it left and right. He makes a reputation in the two days he spends in Zürich, and when he's approached by a local who's _in the know_ and knows just the place Bruce should be going, he lends an ear.

It's easy, of course, to reject the first and those that follow. For the most part no one's trying to scam him, but they see him as an easy mark who should be easy to convince to come out to their specific part of the country, their specific mountain, and drum up some tourism that way. They know he'll go home and talk up wherever he goes, and they're hoping to get in on that, even if what they're offering is nothing nearly as good as the Matterhorn.

Bruce has no intention of going with them, but he listens anyway so that on the third day, when someone suggests he go out east and climb Piz Tschütta, Bruce allows himself to be convinced.

It gets him the closest to Austria he's likely to get.

Samnaun is a half day from Zürich, and there's really not much to it. The town has less than four hundred people in it, and despite Bruce's concerns, there are amenities intended for tourists. There's a nice chalet for those wanting to go skiing, and even half empty it's still very comfortable.

And every step of the way, he takes readings.

With the time he had, he had built a machine that would let him track the signal, measuring the strength at his current location. The problem he faces the first time he turns it on is immediate: the signal is so powerful that it's showing one hundred percent, the maximum reading, no matter what he does.

Bruce weighs his options, considering what he can do. It will take days, if not weeks, to recreate the machine with a higher threshold and there's no guarantee he won't have the same problem with higher parameters.

And then, in a stroke of what he can only describe as dumb genius, he realizes he's looking at it wrong.

So rather than re-calibrating it so that it can read more powerful signals, he instead makes the _signal_ weaker, insulating his machine to cut the signal strength. It means his machine is useless if he goes too far away, but after he's insulated it twice over he gets a nice signal strength reading of seventy-eight, which is probably enough to go by.

He doesn't need exact numbers: he needs broad strokes to figure out where it's coming from.

The second problem isn't apparent until he takes his third reading on the way to Samnaun, and he doesn't notice it until he takes his fourth and plots them all out. The readings are inconsistent, refusing to be mapped, and even though he's seeking out _broad strokes,_ the strokes he's finding are far too broad.

It feels almost pointless. Effectively random, and completely useless. He pores over the data, feeling desperate for some kind of epiphany. For a realization that will help him understand what it is he's missing.

He isn't the sort of person who will give up easily. Alfred's described him as _driven_ plenty of times in the past, when he's not calling him something worse.

But there's nothing. He stares and struggles and comes up with nothing. He has no idea what's needed, no idea what to do.

With no other options, he simply does what he's _supposed_ to be doing. He goes skiing. He socializes with the locals. He feigns a much worse understanding of the various languages being spoken then he actually has: he's fluent in French and German and more than passable in several others, but he pretends to speak only English in what he's sure is the oldest trick in the book.

It doesn't help.

He climbs a rather uninteresting mountain that's been climbed a dozen times and returns triumphant. He sends a message to the man who recruited him by writing a letter to the address he gave and asking them to send the letter on to Uncle Richard.

He's invited to go _caving,_ to explore the depths under a mountain, and he accepts just to keep his persona going, even if he doesn't see a point.

And it's down in the caves, deep beneath the mountain, that he realizes what he's been missing.

He finishes the trip, goes back to his room, and then sneaks out that night to go down into the caves. It's a stupid, monumentally idiotic thing for him to do, and yet he does it anyway, going as deep as he dares before setting up his detector and turning it on.

The signal is stronger.

Deep beneath the ground, where he should be insulated from the broadcasting signals, the signal is instead _stronger,_ far more powerful.

Whatever's broadcasting is underground.

He returns to the surface triumphant, and spends the next morning in his room poring over maps. That afternoon, he declares a newfound love of caving, and charters every guide willing to take him to take him spelunking through every cave system within a day's ride.

At each and every one he takes copious notes. He tries to map things out by depths and strengths, and bit by bit he begins to understand where the signal seems to be originating from.

He passes his data on, but on his third week in Switzerland, news leaks into the country: the Germans are on the move. They're marching closer and closer to the Swiss border. The Swiss are on high alert, and so too is Bruce.

He gathers the information he can, plotting their movements on his map, and realizes that the worst case scenario is coming true: they're moving closer and closer to where Bruce thinks the signal must be coming from.

He doesn't think he has time to wait.

He discreetly collects data on the best cave systems over the border, adds that to his map, and makes his plan: he's going to need to do it himself. He's going to need to steal his way out of the country to check every cave system he can, and if he's lucky?

If he's lucky, he'll find the source.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce knows, instinctively and without question, that what he's doing is a truly terrible idea. It's not as if he's stupid enough to think it's ingenious; he knows there's a very good chance it's going to get him killed, and in the back of his mind he can hear Alfred telling him not to be reckless.

But he has to go. The Germans are on the move, and unless Bruce's calculations are completely wrong, they're headed towards the source of the signal. Even if he doesn't know what's at the heart of it, he knows instinctively that no matter _what_ it is, he doesn't want the Nazis getting their hands on it.

He leaves late that afternoon, announcing his plans to see the sunrise over the mountain. It's an easy climb, if it can even be called that, the kind that poses minimal danger to a skilled mountaineer like himself. He takes no one with him, but promises simply to be safe.

It's a lie. He isn't going to be safe, and he's not going up the mountain. Instead, he cuts across the base of the mountain, skirting the edge and starts the hike into Austria.

He's lucky. While it's winter, the snow has yet to really come. It's present on the mountains, but as he descends into the valley it gives way, making for a far easier trek. There are even trails, once well traveled but now fallen into disuse as the two countries went to war. He keeps a low profile, keeping himself from being silhouetted. The moon's high in the sky and too bright for Bruce's tastes, so wherever possible he keeps to the trees.

If he's spotted he's going to have a damned hard time explaining himself.

The hike is an easy one, but it's still tiring. He hasn't slept as much as he should to prepare, going out on such short notice, and he has to stop regularly to make sure he's still on track. Every hour he checks the readings, and feels ever so slightly more relaxed when his estimates are proven correct. He's on the right course, he just has to make sure he gets to the end.

Dawn breaks before he makes it to the entrance he's aiming for, which means he has to go even slower than he'd like. He keeps well away from villages or any other sign of habitation, but there's farms he has to pick his way around just the same.

So close to the Swiss border, the countryside looks like it's any other day. There's no sign of the war to come. No indication that anything's wrong.

Except maybe the absence of people. Bruce is sure, as he travels, that he should have run into _someone._ Surely someone in the whole of western Austria must be going out to pick mushrooms or _something._ But there's no one, not a single soul out and about, and the farther he goes without running into someone the more paranoid he gets.

They're inside, he guesses. They know the army is coming as well and are less than enthusiastic about a group of soldiers marching through their land.

It does make things easier for him, so he tries not to be overly concerned about it.

It's almost noon by the time he makes it to the cave system. He doesn't think the source of the signal is inside, but it's by far the best chance he's gotten. He's measured other caves along the way, and all the numbers line up.

The first problem, of course, is that there's no nice clearly marked entrance. The cave system is a literal hole in the ground, and Bruce stares down into it for a long moment before getting out his gear. He secures his safety line, doing everything as competently as he can, and then carefully allows himself to rappel down into the darkness below.

Once he's there, he takes stock of his supplies and ties off a line. He's not going to go wandering alone into a cave system without some sort of contingency system, and the line will let him find the entrance given enough time and slack. He ties it around his waist and sets off, full of energy despite the severity of the situation.

Every step he takes only increases the feeling of tension in his chest. He's so close to the answer. He's so close to _succeeding._ He wants to be able to prove that what he's been doing is worthwhile, that they were right to put their trust in him.

But beneath that desire to prove himself there's something more important: the hope that whatever he's going to find will make the difference. He doesn't want to speculate about what it is, but even if it's _just_ a way of broadcasting it would potentially change the war. The ability to broadcast to every Allied force instantly would be a massive advantage, one that would make everything he's done absolutely worth it.

But the farther he goes, the more issues he has. He's forced to re-insulate the detector as he goes farther into the cave, the signal becoming stronger and stronger to the point where it's no longer usable. After he's added more insulation for the third time—making it so bulky it's hard to carry—he starts to worry that he's going to have to go in blind. Every time he wraps it, the numbers get less and less useful, meaning he's navigating almost completely blind, his flashlight held in his mouth. 

Even worse, the terrain's getting rougher. Part of the cave seems relatively well-traveled, showing signs of humans having passed through relatively recently. There's well worn paths, but as he goes farther and farther from the entrance those fall away until he's being forced to shimmy through stalagmites, the over-sized detector cradled in his arms.

Truth be told, he's tired. He's approaching thirty-six hours awake, and he's been hiking, climbing, or rappelling for most of it. When he finds a flat piece of ground he forces himself to stop and take a break, eating the food he brought with him and letting himself rest for a few minutes.

But not for long. If he stops for too long he's going to end up stuck there, and he can't risk it.

The first sign of anything odd is the cold. When he first dropped into the cave the warmer temperatures of the Earth below had allowed him to undo his jacket and remove his gloves for finer control. The farther he goes, however, the colder it seems to get, a state of affairs that's absolutely backwards from Bruce's experience. The obvious assumption would be that there's an opening higher up, letting the cold air in, but there's no obvious sign of any such opening, and the air flow in the cave is minimal.

That also wouldn't account for the rate of temperature change. Desperate for some answers, Bruce sets down his detector, digging through his pack to find the thermometer he'd brought with him. He removes it from its case and is alarmed to find it several degrees below freezing.

He follows a hunch, abandoning the detector just to the side of his path as he goes farther in. He can watch the mercury dropping as he walks, sinking bit by bit. He retrieves his gloves, slipping them back on, and does his jacket back up. It's intended for mountain climbing, so it can stand the cold, but that doesn't mean it's comfortable.

And then he hears it. Somewhere far ahead there's a yell, filled with indignation.

In German.

Bruce doesn't want to know why someone was just called an idiot _in German,_ but he knows that his timetable has just dropped to almost nothing.

The Germans are in the same cave system as him.

He needs to be fast, picking up his pace desperately. He hopes they haven't found the source. He hopes he isn't about to run into a platoon of angry German soldiers.

The temperature keeps dropping. Bruce swears there's going to be frost on his beard before he finds the source as he hurries through the cave, doing everything he can to keep his volume to a minimum. There's no sound of approaching soldiers, so he has at least _some_ time, but he doesn't think it's going to be enough.

Too late to turn back.

He checks a branching path and follows the colder one, catching sight of ice along the walls as he goes. He keeps speeding up, unable to allow himself to stop, as the rock of the cave system gives way to more and more ice.

And metal.

Bruce actually stops, sliding to a halt at the sight of it, and stares up in confusion. It's silvery and untarnished, but it doesn't look like a natural deposit. It looks like a chunk of something half-buried in the wall, and he stares up at it, considering his options.

Does he have time to try and remove it for later inspection? Probably not. Does he want to? _Absolutely._

He makes a brief attempt before giving up, and he's thankful he didn't spend much time on it. Thirty feet ahead there's more metal, and he manages to find a small enough chunk that he can place it securely in the pouch on his belt.

The farther he goes, the more there is. Plenty of it is wedged into the walls as the tunnel—if it can even be called that—gets narrower and narrower. Several times Bruce has to go sideways, or else scale over a protrusion. His progress gets even slower when the path he's taking drops off ten feet, requiring Bruce to safely scale his way down.

Somewhere in the distance there's another noise like someone yelling. Bruce's heart is in his throat as he pushes deeper, the spaces he's forced to travel getting narrower and narrower.

At the very least it might slow his pursuers down. That's the only advantage he can find in the situation as he descends into the bowels of the Earth.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce doesn't even know it's the final turn until he's already made it. He squeezes around a blind corner, edging forward as he tries to find his way, and then suddenly it's over.

The tiny path behind him—little more than a crack in the wall by that point—opens into a large, almost spherical room. The walls are pure ice, so thick Bruce can't even see stone, and Bruce gets acquainted with them very quickly when he turns the corner, loses his footing, and starts to slide rapidly down. His flashlight goes bouncing away, and Bruce's fight or flight response flares.

He's quick with his ice pick, swinging it against the ice, but to his horror it simply bounces off, refusing to dig in. While it doesn't matter—his slide levels out quickly—the fact that the ice was impossible to find purchase in isn't a good one. It means he's going to have a hell of a time getting back up, and also brings into question something else.

He's not actually sure it _is_ ice.

But he doesn't have time to dwell on it, because when Bruce turns to the center of the room he finds a short pillar of the same ice-like substance rising up vertically from the floor.

Inside is a man.

The sight is so bewildering that Bruce actually has to stop, still sitting on his ass, and simply stare.

He's half-lit by the light of Bruce's dropped flashlight, but the cave itself seems to be almost _naturally_ lit. It isn't particularly dark, and Bruce can't decide if there's light coming in from above or if the ice itself is giving off light. It gives him a near perfect view of the cave, and of the man before him.

He's a fully grown human (or at least _humanoid_ ) man. He seems to be standing, wearing strange clothing, with his hands clasped over his chest. He's perfectly still and unmoving, lodged right in the center of the pillar, and Bruce struggles to wrap his head around the situation and fails utterly.

It doesn't make sense.

The entire situation is so baffling he simply can't wrap his head around it. Even if he were a person who was trapped down there and froze to death, the pillar itself is plainly unnatural. The position is absurd. The clothes—some sort of blue bodysuit with a small cape and an elaborate loincloth that Bruce can't quite make out the details of through the ice—are unlike anything Bruce has seen before.

His head hurts, and he doesn't think it has anything to do with the lack of sleep.

But one thing stands over all: for him, there's absolutely no question that he's found the source of the signal.

He doesn't dare risk picking himself up while standing on ice, so instead he crawls towards the pillar. It's raised slightly, a bump in the cave, and he finds himself literally sitting at the feet of the strange man, gawking openly.

He tries to think. Tries to speculate. But every answer he comes up with is more outlandish then the next. The last of an underground civilization? A man from space? For all he knows the man's from Atlantis. It looks as if the belt holding up his loincloth is real gold, but it's impossible to tell for sure and the every time he looks his brain just hurts that much more.

Because nothing about the situation helps. Finding a strange man frozen in ice won't help him. A corpse will do the Allies no good, although he supposes at the very least it won't help the Nazis either. He has no way to transport something so large, and with the body itself located well inside Austria, no way to bring a larger force to retrieve it.

Bruce tries to stand, going as slow as he dares. Getting to his feet is difficult, and he has to brace himself against the pillar, gloved hands running along it. The pillar is uneven, but the surface is smooth enough that it's difficult to get any sort of grip on it, and Bruce has to put actual effort into just standing up.

And then the surface cracks. The sound is loud as a gun shot, and Bruce yelps, slipping backwards and landing on his ass again. There's another deafening _crack,_ and Bruce gawks up at the pillar to find a massive split across the front of it. Somewhere far away, a noise sounds, almost like a horn, and a voice speaks in a language Bruce has never even heard before and can't possibly hope to understand.

Then a third. Then a fourth. The sound is so loud Bruce has to cover his ears, and one particularly large crack causes fluid—not water, if the smell is any indication—to pour down the side, making the floor of the cave even more of a mess.

The man inside the ice stirs, and Bruce swears his brain stops working. It doesn't make sense. He's thought that a million times, but staring up at the pillar he swears that's _all_ he can think. How it's impossible a dozen times over. There's no way to freeze someone and have them reanimate; it's something out of a horror story, or maybe something meant for children.

Snow White, lying still and cold, being brought back to life with true love's first kiss is about as plausible as what he's seeing.

With one last _crack_ the entire pillar cleaves in half, the two largest chunks falling to the side and the rest of the fluid gushing out onto the floor, coating the bottom of Bruce's boots. The noises—both the horn and the voice—go silent.

The body should fall. It should be a corpse, long frozen and badly damaged by the ice, and it should fall to the ground. Instead they stand, firmly on their feet, and as Bruce watches they stretch, arching their back as if stiff from a long flight, and open their eyes.

Their eyes are as blue as their suit. The man above him has the sort of classical good looks that would fit a Hollywood star: fine cheek bones, perfectly combed (if damp) hair, and a strong chin. He looks around, seemingly confused, and then looks down at Bruce, his confusion only deepening.

Bruce is aware he's gawking. He wishes he wasn't—he'd like to have some sort of dignity in the face of something which is so completely alien to his experiences he can't even wrap his head around it—but he can't quite get his mouth to close.

"Oh!" The man says. "You fell?"

Somehow, the fact that he's speaking in perfect English is a step too far for Bruce. He simply tips his head back and laughs, wondering to himself if he's gone completely insane.

The man makes a face at him and folds his arms over his chest. His body language is certainly human, and he _looks_ human, but Bruce is having a hard time wrapping his head around him actually being so.

"I don't really see what's funny," the man huffs, his English flawless but also strangely accented. "This whole situation is very confusing."

"You think it's confusing for _you?"_ Bruce says, eyebrows shooting up. "You just— you just came out of a pillar of ice. Nothing about this makes any sense."

"My ship is gone," the man protests. "Which is especially confusing, considering I should be inside it."

A ship. God, he really _is_ an... a what, an alien? Bruce supposes he could theoretically be a time traveler (as if that makes it any better), and his _ship_ could be a... a _time ship._

"Hands up!" A voice—German, of course, because Bruce doesn't have enough problems—yells from behind them.

For a moment Bruce had almost completely forgotten his pursuers. Now it doesn't really matter: there's nowhere to go. The cave has no clear exits, and he doesn't have the time to search for one. While he's sure he could take a single German soldier (and a glance over his shoulder confirms it's just the one right then), it's the dozens behind him that pose a problem.

So he does the only thing he can: scrambles to his feet (nearly slipping in the process), and puts himself between the stranger and the soldier. The soldier has his gun out, already pointed their direction, and Bruce puts his hands firmly in the air, the most obvious thing he can do.

Behind the soldier, another is emerging from a crack in the wall, and Bruce has no doubt more will follow.

He drops his voice, speaking to the stranger as quietly as he can.

"You need to do what they say," he says. "The things in their hands are very dangerous and could hurt you."

He speaks English, but Bruce has no idea if he speaks any German, and every detail about the entire situation feels up in the air in a way he hates.

Because the absolute last thing Bruce wants is to be at the mercy of a pack of German soldiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the illustration of this scene, check out the connected [art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25083316) by @Santheum.


	5. Chapter 5

His arrest is less than dignified. It's nothing he does, but not one but two of the soldiers who move to restrain him end up slipping on the fluid that's soaked the bottom of the cave. There's not a particularly dignified way to get down to the center of the cave either, meaning every single soldier is forced to scoot down on their ass to get to where Bruce and the alien are. But they get there eventually, all too roughly pulling his hands behind his back and handcuffing him before forcing him to sit back down in the goo.

They seem less certain as to what to do with his companion. No one wants to touch him, and even if they missed his awakening it's clear enough to everyone what's going on. For one, he's still standing in the remains of the pillar.

For another, he's wearing clothes that couldn't be less ordinary if he tried.

More and more soldiers pile in, some with jobs and some who only loiter. A few begin exploring the sides of the cave, searching for other tunnels. Some encircle Bruce and the alien, keeping them from running, their guns at the ready. A few focus on widening the entrance, but find that no amount of manual labor will damage the ice.

In the end, everyone has to squeeze through just the same.

Their leader arrives ten or so minutes after the first soldier. He's a stern looking man in full uniform, and his eyes are hard as steel as he looks down from the ledge towards their captives. He somehow manages to slide down with dignity, picking himself up once he reaches the bottom and gesturing for the men to part.

He gives Bruce his attention first, looking him over with obvious scrutiny.

"Who do you work for?" he asks in English. Bruce knows his German isn't nearly good enough to be convincing, so he commits to his role.

"I'm an American, if that's what you mean, but I don't work for anyone."

"Please don't waste our time. We know our enemies have been searching just the same as we have. You'll save yourself a great deal of trouble if you simply tell me which specific enemy is the one that sent you. You are simply a pawn to them; they won't help you."

Bruce knows they won't, but that doesn't change a thing.

"Sorry, I really don't know what you're talking about. You mean the Allies? England and France and all them?"

The man's gaze doesn't falter. One of the men at Bruce's side raises his gun, and the major—Bruce is pretty sure he's a major, judging by his stripes—gestures for him to lower it.

 _"We'll bring him with us,"_ he says in German. _"There's still more we could learn from him. Keep him restrained."_

Bruce plays dumb, looking confused as he glances between the men standing over him.

"Hi," the alien says. _"Or perhaps hello would be better?"_ He drops effortlessly into German, and the soldiers startle. A few guns raise slightly before dropping back down as the major takes control of the situation, straightening up in front of the alien.

_"You speak German?"_

_"I speak a bit of everything,"_ he explains. _"My ship picked up on local languages so that I could be understood. I should speak everything spoken in the proximity of it. But I'm... not entirely sure what happened to it."_ He seems blissfully ignorant of the danger, his eyes roaming around the cave, and he spots a particularly large chunk of metal embedded in the ceiling and frowns.

 _"Where are you from, stranger?"_ The major asks. His arms cross in front of him, and Bruce realizes to his alarm that one of the man's hand is made of metal.

Made of iron.

Which means the man in front of him is the one the Germans call the _Iron Major._ He's a cunning, dangerous man, famed for his stubbornness as well as his dedication to his men. In a stupid way, the fact that it's him gives him hope; as dangerous as the Iron Major is, Bruce hasn't heard anything about him being particularly vicious or violent.

Because that's what he's facing down right then: the possibility that he's going to be tortured for information. He doesn't want to think about it, but it's still there, a very real and very alarming risk that Bruce can't put out of his mind as he watches the two speak.

 _"I am Kal-El of Krypton,"_ the alien says, a bright smile on his face. _"I was sent to speak to your people. To make contact on behalf of mine."_

The gathered soldiers murmur among themselves, and Bruce's only regret is that he can't do the same. He has no idea where Krypton is, but context tells him that it's somewhere far, far away.

 _"We do not know of Krypton,"_ the Major says. _"You are from space? An alien?"_

 _"Space, yes,"_ Kal-El says. _"Another planet, very far from here. You are one of the first intelligent species we've detected, so I was sent here to speak with you."_

An alien. He really is an alien. A man from space who somehow still manages to look completely human.

 _"Then on behalf of our leader, let me welcome you,"_ the Major says with a nod. _"I am unsure how you came to be so far underground, but I'm sure our scientists can figure it out. In the meanwhile, we should escort you to the surface and you'll be taken to the people you came to meet."_

They're going to take him to see the people in charge, and the thought makes the hairs on the back of Bruce's neck stand up at the realization.

The war is precarious enough as is without throwing literal aliens from beyond the stars in on the side of the Nazis.

But there's nothing he can actually do right then. If he says anything, he'll just end up separated from Kal-El. The best thing he can do is keep his mouth shut and hope they're transported together. At the very least he has until they get out of the cave, a process that turns out to take much longer than Bruce first expected.

There's constantly more people coming in, people inspecting the cave and everything within it. The chunks of metal, the strange ice, and of course Kal-El himself. He seems perfectly happy with the state of things, showing no signs of distress at what's happening. Bruce stays seated, constantly watched by guards, but as the hours roll by the guards become more and more lax... and he becomes more and more tired. Sitting on the ground as he is, the exhaustion is weighing heavily on him, and he finds himself in serious danger of nodding off.

He tries to pay attention. He tries to listen to what the major is saying as he speaks to Kal-El. It's mostly polite small talk, with the major showing interest, but a lot of it is him talking up how great the German empire is. How Kal must go see it all to really understand the glory of it.

Bruce can only pray he isn't being taken in by it.


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhere along the line, Bruce simply nods off, unable to keep himself awake. He's woken intermittently by loud noises, or by the guards, but always ends up asleep again, unable to keep himself awake. Once, he wakes to find Kal-El standing over him, looking concerned as he stares down at him.

 _"He's unwell,"_ Kal-El says, turning to the Major.

_"He's a spy, sent by our enemies to try and steal you away."_

_"He's still sick."_

The Major looks down at Bruce disapprovingly, and Bruce gets the impression that if he weren't desperately trying to impress Kal-El he'd probably be dragging Bruce through the cave by his wrists.

Instead he turns, calling over his shoulder to his men. _"Get some food and water for him. Uncuff him while you're at it; this one is no threat to us."_

Bruce wants to say that it's a win, because being untied gives him more freedom of movement, but it doesn't actually make any difference. He's too tired to function or be any real threat, and even though he should be wary of poison he eats the offered food and drinks the offered water without protest. By the time they're ready to move, he feels almost alive again, able to stand and move under his own power.

"I don't want any funny business from you, American," the major says in English, apparently convinced by Bruce's charade. "I expect you to behave yourself, and I'll deal with you later."

Ah, there's the torture.

 _"Is he bad?"_ Kal-El asks, looking to the major for insight.

_"An enemy. A soldier who snuck into our lands and pretended he was not a soldier at all. We will deal with him in time. You do not need to concern yourself with him."_

_"Of course not,"_ Kal-El says, his eyes sliding down to Bruce. For just a moment, Bruce thinks he's trying to convey something in the look, but then the moment's gone, leaving him none the wiser.

 _"Let's go,"_ the major announces, calling his men to attention. _"Third group will remain here to secure the site. First and second group will escort our guests back to Innsbruck."_

"Up," a soldier says to him, nudging Bruce to his feet. He expects to be handcuffed again, but no one bothers. They clearly aren't expecting much of him, and that might be the only advantage he has.

But having that advantage isn't enough. Even if he gets an opportunity, making a run for it is a terrible idea. He'd have to make it back to Switzerland without being caught, but even then... what about Kal-El?

He's oblivious to the politics happening around him, and very likely in serious danger. All Bruce can do is keep his mouth shut and hope for an opportunity to talk to him in private that he's unlikely to get.

He has to find a way. There's no other option.

The trip out of the cave is far easier than the trip in. For one thing, some of the stone has been chipped away, widening a few narrow sections. For another, there's proper ropes and ladders set up for places where he previously had to let himself down carefully. Kal-El moves near the front of the column, escorted by the major, while Bruce is ringed in by soldiers who are all quite intent on keeping an eye on the _spy._

Bruce is expecting a march to the surface, but instead they stop not all that far from the cave, and the major rounds on him, holding up the line Bruce left behind to help him find his way back.

"Quite inventive. Leaving it behind to allow you to find your way back... But you were in a rush, to say the least. The only reason you managed to beat us here is because your path through the cave is far easier to traverse."

"Guess I'm lucky," Bruce says.

"Then you'll be happy to explain this." The Major nods to the side and one of the soldiers steps forward, his arms cradling the massive device. It's been buried under so many layers of insulation it's hardly recognizable, and Bruce actually smiles just seeing it.

He doesn't really see a point to hiding it. If anything, he figures he can use it to provide him with a much-needed cover story. "I detected a strange signal from out here and sought to investigate. I built that to help me find the source, but my engineering was shoddy and it started to fail. The only reason I didn't just get lost down here is because whatever was keeping him intact was freezing everything around it." He nods to Kal-El as he speaks, and the major stares him down, scrutinizing him as he looks for any signs that he's lying.

Bruce isn't lying, so there's nothing to find.

Apparently he passes muster, because the major simply turns away and starts down the tunnel.

It's a long walk. Bruce's legs are burning, even with the rest he had, and he has to put considerable effort into keeping up with the march. He's desperate for fresh air and sunlight, but he's not even sure if he's going to get to _see_ the sun. His watch is broken, smashed at some point (probably his tumble down), and completely useless in terms of figuring out how long he's been there. He went down at noon, walked for hours, and he's sure he slept several hours after that. Is it late at night, or very early morning?

He doesn't find out until they finally reach the end of the tunnel. His simple rope has been replaced by a military-grade ladder, and he watches in dismay as Kal-El and the major climb up ahead of him.

He feels trapped. Even though he knows he'll be going up after them, it feels almost painfully easy for them to be separated. For him to be lost. No one knows where he is or what he's doing. If he vanishes into a shallow grave in Austria, no one will ever know.

At the same time, he can't quite regret having come. Even if he dies alone and abandoned, he's at least given the world a chance. At the very least Kal-El has met one decent human being. At least he knows there are others. Maybe he'll remember that Bruce wasn't the monster the Nazis will no doubt make him out to be.

Maybe that will be enough to save them from whatever chaos Kal-El and his people might bring.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun is just on the verge of rising when he makes it to the surface, and entirely without meaning to Bruce finds himself standing just off to the side, staring out at the sunrise.

He could run. The soldiers are distracted. He _should_ run, but the odds are stacked so high against him that he doesn't see the point. There's more he can do there.

"How well behaved," a voice calls from behind him. The major, who steps up, standing just beside Bruce. "One might almost think you were a cowardly civilian, only you don't seem to be doing much cowering."

"I think resigned is a better term for it," Bruce says. "Running isn't going to do me any good. The only thing that will happen if I run is that you'll have them shoot me in the leg and drag me back."

Maybe that would be worth it, if only to show Kal-El what they're capable of, but he prefers his legs intact and decides against it.

"A smart spy. That feels almost like an oxymoron," the major snorts. "I trust I won't have to bind you again."

"I'll play by your rules," Bruce replies. "I understand you think that I'm a spy, but I'm hoping you'll eventually come to realize that this was a mistake. I'm an explorer—I wanted to find the source of the signal, and now I have."

"And what a source it is," the major says, turning his head to look towards Kal-El. He's standing up on a ridge, staring off into the distance and taking in the countryside. "A spaceman. An alien."

"The first alien on Earth," Bruce agrees. He has a whole lot of thoughts on just what the hell is going on, but he's only willing to discuss the most surface ones with the major. He's hoping it will endear him to the man who holds his life in his hands. "His ship must have crashed. The metal bits in the cave walls... that must be what remains of it."

"Which would beg the question of how he lived. I assume you have some theories." At the very least he's politely interrogating Bruce. Bruce knows that's what it is, and he's wary of what happens if the Iron Major doesn't get his answers.

"He was frozen in ice," Bruce explains. "Not true ice, but something like it."

"The things on the cave walls."

"It seems to have protected him. When I disturbed the ice, it cracked open and out he came. I assume you could hear it." A safe bet.

"Impossible to miss, with how loud it was. The fluid?"

"It was what suspended him," Bruce adds. He can't tell if the smell has dissipated, or if he's just gotten so used to it he can't smell it anymore. "It got everywhere, then seemed to evaporate more quickly than water should."

"Interesting," the major says, reaching up to scratch at his chin with his one good hand. "How fortunate for you that you would suddenly become the foremost expert on our new alien and his awakening here."

"How fortunate," Bruce says dryly. "I'd rather have found a particularly bizarre natural phenomenon and gone home."

The major actually laughs at that, which does _not_ inspire any sort of warm feeling in Bruce. The conversation derails as Kal-El drifts over, joining their conversation as naturally as can be.

"What are you two talking about?"

"Our guest here was just explaining how he found you," the major explains, and Bruce makes a calculated choice between revealing as little as possible to the major and endearing himself to Kal-El.

"I don't think I ever introduced myself," he says, offering his hand to Kal-El. "My name is Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce-Wayne?" Kal asks, not giving enough space between the two words. He stares down at Bruce's offered hand, confused.

"You can just call me Bruce," he clarifies. "It's traditional in many Earth cultures to shake hands. You... lightly grab the other person's hand and shake it."

it is the most awkward handshake Bruce has ever experienced. Kal-El clearly has no idea what he's doing, but he's _trying,_ and that's all that matters. He gets the hang of it on the third or fourth shake, and Bruce makes a noise of approval.

"There you go," he says. "You've got it."

"You should call me Kal," the other man adds. "Your family uses a structure of given and family names, each with multiple syllables?"

"Not all of us," Bruce says. Out of the corner of his eye he swears he sees the major's expression turn more and more disappointed, but he ignores it, feigning ignorance. "Mine is a personal first and middle name, and a shared family name. My middle name is Thomas, after my father, but everyone just calls me Bruce."

"Fascinating," Kal says. "Are multiple syllables not less efficient...?"

"A bit. Your culture only has single syllables for names...?"

"For the most part. There's minimal variation between names within families."

The major clears his throat, and Bruce turns his head, innocent as can be.

"I thought some cultural exchange might help him. He doesn't seem to know much about humans."

"I didn't know they were called humans," Kal chimes in, polite as can be. "Are humans the only sapient species on this planet?"

"They are," Bruce says as the major clears his throat again, interrupting more plainly.

"We should start to move," the major says. "We're only an hour or two away from our vehicles, and once we get there we can make good time."

Bruce doesn't like the way the major's eyes linger on him, but he keeps his mouth shut.

The hike to the encampment isn't difficult, but Bruce is happy to finally be in a vehicle. The major isn't stupid enough to put him in the same car as Kal, so he ends up sitting in a truck, surrounded by soldiers, wondering if they're going to turn off and leave him behind. He assumes not, since there's really only one place for them to go, but after Innsbruck?

Then he's in real trouble.

Every bump in the road and every turn makes him that much more paranoid, but their arrival in Innsbruck only a few hours later feels like an immense relief. He sees little of the city, only glimpses out the back of the truck, and when it parks they refuse to let him out, ordering him to stay still.

Bruce's throat is dry, and he mentally runs through every stupid thing he's done as he waits. There are so many stupid things, and yet at the same time he can't think of a single thing that he'd do differently if he could do it all over again.

He guesses he's been waiting around an hour when the soldiers come and get him, shouting at him in German—which he pretends not to understand—as they unload him from the truck, grab his arms, and march him into a stone building he sees almost nothing of.

The fact that the ground is covered in carpet and not blood is a good sign, but the sight of Kal and a very irritated-looking major standing by to welcome him is even more so. He'd assumed he'd be split off here and taken to wherever they plan to do him in.

 _"We'll take a truck from here to Munich, and from there the trains would be a better choice. From Munich to Nuremberg, from there to Leipzig, and then to Berlin. I've already notified my superiors of your arrival,"_ the major explains to Kal, completely ignoring Bruce's presence.

Kal won't, though, turning to Bruce with a wide smile.

"You're back!" he says excitedly. "Have you been to Germany before?"

It feels like such an innocuous question, and Bruce simply shakes his head.

"I haven't had much opportunity to see Europe," he admits. It's the truth, but even if it wasn't his answer would be the same. 

"A pity," the major says, looking more and more irritated by Bruce's presence, which makes the fact that he's there at all baffling. Did Kal ask for him? The major must be _very_ intent on looking good in front of Kal to bow to that rather than making an excuse. "It's a beautiful country."

Bruce isn't really bothering to hide his confusion, but the major isn't doing anything to help. Instead, it's Kal himself who steps in to clarify.

"It's good you're here," Kal explains. "The major was going to send you off, and if you'd left it would have been terrible."

Bruce's eyebrows go up, glancing between the major and Kal.

"If you had left, I wouldn't be able to speak," Kal adds. "Or, I'd be able to speak but you wouldn't be able to understand me."

Kal's explanation apparently not quite enough, the major expands.

"Apparently his ship is the source of his communication. Since you were the first person to make contact with the ship, you are acting as a... beacon. A secondary source of language for Kal-El."

The major's eyes narrow.

_"Which means you're perfectly fluent in German."_

Crap.

 _"Guilty,"_ Bruce admits. If the only reason he's there is because he's providing Kal with language, he might as well own up to it. The alternative is far worse.

"Stick to English, your pronunciation is atrocious."

"How long am I going to be, ah... needed?" Bruce asks, wondering just how long he's bought himself.

"A few weeks, maybe?" Kal says. "My people haven't done much exploration. This is a new thing for us as well, so I can't say for sure how it will work with your species."

A few weeks. It's a weight off Bruce's shoulders. All of a sudden he's _needed,_ and it's clear to him that there's no alternative for the Germans but to drag him along to wherever Kal goes.

It's the opportunity he so desperately needs.


	8. Chapter 8

They reach Munich before the major has a chance to pull him aside. Bruce has been expecting the talk since the major was first saddled with him, and he can't quite muster up the energy to feign surprise when it happens. Kal's been pulled aside by the soldiers and is being plied with baked goods, and the major wraps his arm around Bruce's shoulders, steering him away while Kal is distracted.

"I think we need to have a talk, you and I."

He's been waiting for it, so he offers no resistance as the major guides him away. They don't go far, which is encouraging, and the major gets straight to the point, which is even more so.

"Your presence here is unwelcome," the major explains. "If I had my way, you'd already have been handed over to someone who could get the truth from you. As it stands, I expect you to behave. No filling Kal-El's head with lies of deceit. When I ask you something, I expect the truth in response. No more _pretending you don't know German."_

His eyes narrow, and Bruce swallows hard despite the lump in his throat.

"Understood," he says simply. He considers asking what he'll get out of it, but decides against causing any more trouble. The answer is inevitably going to be _you'll still be alive,_ and if the major is willing to give him credit for his good behavior, he'll going to do so whether or not Bruce asks.

The exhaustion of travel is weighing on them all, so when the major commandeers a small hotel in Munich it feels like a genuine relief. He takes the best rooms for himself and Kal, leaving Bruce to a room down the hall. They're not kind enough to leave him alone, of course, but they do let him take a shower in relative privacy, a guard posted just inside the bathroom, looking the other way.

The grime comes off him like a sheet, and he's forced to scrub until his skin turns pink just to feel even slightly clean again. The water isn't as hot as he's used to at home, but it's better accommodations than he's had for the past while just the same. He soaps himself up twice, and only once he's done does he run himself a bath, sinking down into the hot water and letting the rest of the grime soak away.

He ignores the soldier right up until he goes to dress and discovers they've taken his clothes.

"My clothes?" he asks, and then realizes the man might not speak any English. _"Clothes?"_ he repeats in German.

 _"You're getting new ones,"_ the man replies. _"You'll have to wait."_

He does. There's only a single towel, which Bruce uses to dry himself off, and he uses it in a weak attempt to maintain his modesty as he sits in the bathroom, unable to leave until someone bothers to find him clothes.

Hopefully in his size. Hopefully warm enough he won't freeze in the winter chill. It takes almost a full hour after he's done cleaning before there's a knock at the door, and a second soldier arrives with his clothes.

They fit, but barely. They've gotten him a jumpsuit, plain and boring, and they've gone ahead and stitched _prisoner_ in German at several key places. On the cuffs. Over the heart. On the leg. It's impossible to miss what he is, but right then Bruce is just happy he's allowed to have clothes at all.

They aren't stupid enough to give him anything to help with his beard, so he settles for combing it out with his fingers before going to bed. They don't feed him—whether because he doesn't ask, or because they don't feel like it—but it doesn't matter.

He's asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

They do feed him the following morning, but the food is bland and uninteresting. He's left to sit in his room under guard for what seems like ages before he's finally ushered down to the ground floor where the major, Kal-El, and a man that Bruce recognizes as high ranking from the gold of his insignia are waiting.

 _"This is the prisoner?"_ the man asks, looking to the major for an answer. The major nods automatically, and the look he shoots Bruce tells him that he's going to _really_ need to behave with the man in front of him. "I'll expect no trouble from you." The man's accent is so thick it's nearly incomprehensible, and Bruce can only follow what he's saying from context clues.

 _"It's good you're here!"_ Kal announces enthusiastically. _"The Major had to tell me about how much sleep a human needs. We need a little more than you, I think, but we can go longer without."_

 _"Hopefully you got some rest, Kal,"_ Bruce says, hoping his German will tip the new man off that he's fluent so he doesn't have to struggle to figure out what's being said to him. _  
_

 _"This is General von Dort,"_ the major says. _"He'll be taking care of Kal-El for the near future."_

 _"We have some things to discuss with people here,"_ von Dort says, thankfully taking Bruce's cue. _"Then we'll take the train to Berlin."_

 _"I've never taken a train before,"_ Kal says, clearly enthusiastic for the idea. Bruce feels a pang of pity for him: he clearly has no idea what he's getting into, or how great the danger is. He's just happy to be there, to get to experience things like _trains_ and _human food_. _  
_

Bruce wishes he could be that level of oblivious. It would be a mercy compared to the constant low-level panic he's experiencing, where anything and everything that he does could end with a bullet in his skull.

 _"You will wait here,"_ von Dort says to Bruce, nodding to his men.

 _"He's staying here?"_ Kal asks, glancing between them. He still looks like his happy, normal self, but it's also deeply obvious to Bruce (and probably everyone else) that Kal obviously wants Bruce to come along.

 _"Just for now,"_ von Dort answers. _"He will come with us to Berlin."_

Bruce doesn't really believe that. In fact, he's pretty sure that von Dort is willing to use any excuse he can to get rid of Bruce. He's a nuisance at best, and Kal's attachment to him is deeply inconvenient to the old man.

Bruce just has to figure out how to stay as close to Kal as possible.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce has been waiting in his room for only thirty minutes when a second soldier enters, joining the man who's been guarding him the whole time. They have a quick whispered conversation, and then Bruce's guard waves for him to come.

Without a word he's lead down to the lobby, where, to his surprise, Kal-El and General von Dort are waiting. Kal looks happy as a clam, but von Dort looks absolutely disgusted, a vein on his bald head looking fit to burst.

"Fix him," he snaps at Bruce in English, pointing to Kal.

Of all the things he might have said, Bruce really has no idea what to make of that. He blinks stupidly, turning to look at Kal, who offers a shrug.

When Kal opens his mouth to speak, what he says is completely unintelligible. It's not German or English, and Bruce can only assume it's Kryptonian, but it isn't as if he understands it, and he has no idea what von Dort wants from him. Obviously he's there for a reason, and with how angry von Dort is, Bruce isn't eager to risk making him angrier.

 _"He no longer speaks German,"_ von Dort explains, at least having the presence of mind to return to German. _"He went too far away from you. Do whatever you did to make him fluent last time."_

Bruce has no goddamn idea what it was he did last time, but he can improvise. Last time he touched the ice (crystal?) holding Kal, but without that option he instead opts to reach out, taking Kal's hand as if he's going to shake it.

Kal blinks rapidly at him, looking up and down before turning to the general and shrugging.

 _"Go on,"_ von Dort says. _"Speak."_

 _"Did it come back?"_ Kal asks,, once again in German and there's an immediate sigh of relief from both Kal and von Dort.

 _"You'll simply have to go along with us,"_ von Dort says to Bruce, looking deeply unhappy with the state of affairs. Bruce, on the other hand, is ecstatic: he now no longer has to worry _at all_ about being left behind, because the German's aren't going to want to risk losing their ability to communicate with Kal.

It hasn't escaped Bruce's attention that Kal is still in the same clothes he was when Bruce found him. He can't tell if they've cleaned his clothes or they're self-cleaning, but the man looks more or less spotless. He sticks out like a sore thumb among the soldiers, in part because of how damned attractive he looks. His teeth are a perfect white, and he stands an inch or two taller than Bruce himself, which puts him above most of the soldiers.

In another life, Bruce wonders if Kal would have been a movie star. A Hollywood heartthrob, loved by damn near everyone.

Instead, he's about to be used as a tool by the Nazis, and Bruce couldn't be more devastated. There's so much Kal could do for the world, and now every good thing is going to be twisted and abused instead.

He tries not to mourn too openly as he's loaded into the back of the truck carrying Kal and von Dort and taken deeper into Munich. He tries not to feel nervous—being around Kal is a good thing, as Kal is unlikely to want him harmed—but when he catches a soldier staring at him he feels sweat drip down his spine.

He doesn't find out why the man is staring until they've stopped in front of an official looking building and start to unload. The guard slips away, living his companion to watch Bruce, and out of the corner of his eye Bruce can see him speaking to von Dort, drawing his attention to something.

At the very least he doesn't have long to wait. Von Dort strides right up to him, his eyes sweeping up and down Bruce as he takes him in.

_"You are Bruce Wayne?"_

_"That's me,"_ he says, feeling more nervous by the second. He hopes it isn't what he thinks it is, but he's also sure he's about to be proven wrong.

_"Of Wayne Enterprises?"_

Dammit. He was hoping no one would recognize him, even after he gave his name, but apparently he's famous enough that at least _some_ people in Germany recognize him.

_"Yes."_

No point in denying it. Not when it's something so easily proven now that they know what to look for.

Von Dort's lip curls, his distaste obvious.

_"Not just a spy, then. An enemy of the state as well. Your company has gone out of its way to be a problem for us, hasn't it?"_

Bruce keeps his mouth shut. He's waiting for the other foot to drop, for von Dort to issue a threat, but he doesn't. He simply makes a dismissive noise and turns away, leaving Bruce to his guards.

Without question, Bruce knows that if he's around the man that much longer, there's going to be hell to pay.

They're all led into the building, with Kal and the general in the front and Bruce in the very back. The building is old and luxurious, obviously a headquarters of some sort, and it's clear that von Dort is trying to work out how far apart Bruce and Kal can be, constantly moving farther and farther ahead. Eventually they reach their apparent destination, which Bruce can only recognize as such because he's ordered to stand and wait outside while Kal and von Dort enter.

There's nowhere to sit, so all he can do is stand and wait, his legs beginning to ache more and more.

It's been maybe ten minutes when a soldier emerges from t he room, beckoning Bruce inside to speak to whoever is waiting. Bruce isn't looking forward to it, but he slips inside anyway, swallowing down his nerves before entering.

He doesn't even make it all the way through the doorway before he slams to a halt. The room's arranged in a horseshoe, with Kal-El in the center. Ringing the room are a number of high ranking officials, including von Dort himself. Bruce doesn't recognize all of them, but he does recognize _most,_ and those that he recognizes spell out how bad the situation is. There's a mix of military and government officials, the senior-most of which is Baron von Luger. He is, as far as Bruce knows, the man in charge of Munich, and the one he should fear the most.

 _"This is the spy?"_ von Luger asks, turning his head to von Dort. _"The American?"_

 _"Bruce is my translator,"_ Kal offers. _"It's thanks to him that I can speak German."_

Apparently the situation has already been explained, because none of them ask for elaboration.

 _"We should be thankful for that,"_ the man on von Dort's right says. _"This conversation would be painful to have in English!"_

There's a round of laughter which Bruce makes no attempt to join in on. He doesn't think he's ever been so uncomfortable in his life, and the desire to punch almost every person in the room is so high he has to focus just to keep it reined in.

 _"He's still a spy,"_ another man says, turning away from Bruce. _"He cannot be allowed to leave under any circumstances. He's already seen too much."_

 _"We don't yet know who he reports to,"_ von Dort adds. _"I've yet to have a chance to interrogate him."_

Bruce's stomach sinks even lower. Interrogation. He knows what that means: there won't be any police questioning happening at the Nazi's hands. He'll be tortured, without question.

 _"Do you need to interrogate him?"_ Kal asks. _"Could you not just compel him?"_

Bruce's blood runs cold as every man in the room turns to Kal in confusion. The way he says it is so matter-of-fact that Bruce can only assume that _compelling_ is something Kryptonians do, and the way it's translated does not inspire confidence.

He doesn't want to be compelled. He doesn't want to be _forced_ to do whatever it is Kal is about to suggest.

 _"Compel?"_ a man asks, glancing between the others. _"I'm not sure what you mean."_

 _"Do humans not have the ability to compel?"_ Kal asks. _"To simply force him to tell the truth?"_

Bruce really is going to be sick.

 _"No,"_ von Luger says, obviously excited. _"Is that something you could do? To force him to tell the truth?"_

 _"Sure!"_ Kal's obvious excitement and seeming obliviousness to Bruce's terror is far from comforting as he straightens up, stepping over towards Bruce. He actually tries to bolt, but the soldiers behind him grab his arms, holding him in place. There's nowhere for him to go anyway; he's in the heart of Munich, in some sort of Nazi headquarters, and there's nowhere for him to go.

"Don't worry," Kal tells him in English, clearly trying to be reassuring. "You said you weren't a spy, and I believe you. As long as you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear."

Bruce has a lot to hide and a lot to fear.

 _"How does this work? Perhaps it would help if you explained,"_ von Dort says, leaning forward with clear interest.

 _"I hold his hands_ _—although any skin contact will do_ — _and then compel him with the words. That will bind him to me and allow me to compel him to speak the truth. I suppose he could compel_ me _to tell the truth, but he'd need to know Kryptonian to do so."_

Should he beg? Bruce considers begging, even though he knows it won't make a difference. The Nazis want a demonstration, and he's the perfect subject. The best he can manage is taking a deep breath and trying to steel his nerve, clinging to what he still has as he forces himself to stop shaking. Kal takes his hands, casual as can be, and if he notices the tremble, he gives no sign.

When he speaks, it's in Kryptonian again. The language is deep and musical, impossible for Bruce to follow or replicate, even if he tried. He has no idea what Kal is saying, but he speaks at length in a tone that sounds much like a church-service chant. Bruce's mouth is dry, and he feels happy that he's holding it together enough to stop himself from crying. His anxiety must be obvious to those around him, because they all seem absolutely delighted by his fear.

 _"Done,"_ Kal says suddenly. _"He is bound to me. If I ask him the question and order the truth, he can't lie."_

Bruce's brain is nothing but a constant stream of _nos._ If Kal asks the wrong question, he's dead.

_"I don't know what to ask... ah, I know. Bruce, I order the truth from you: what is the secret you most want to keep from them?"_

There is two solid seconds of pure, unadulterated terror. In his mind's eye, Bruce knows that secret.

But it isn't forced out of him. He doesn't say a single thing. He doesn't feel the _need_ to say a single thing.

And in that moment he understands the truth.

Kal is lying.

If Kal has the ability to force the truth from anyone, he isn't using it. More likely that ability doesn't exist at all, and he's simply pretending to have it to help Bruce. He has everyone in the room eating out of the palm of his hand, believing everything he says without a shred of evidence.

All Bruce has to do is play along.

For a second longer he remains frozen, and then Bruce begins to tremble. He credits Alfred's acting classes with the fact that he can make it convincing as he lets out a high-pitched whine, his body's shaking becoming stronger and stronger.

Thankfully, Kal catches on.

"Please don't fight it," Kal says desperately. "You'll injure yourself. You need to answer, or you'll break."

Bruce drags it out a few seconds longer, and then the dam cracks, his _confession_ spilling forth.

"I want to be a spy!" he blurts as fast as he's able, the words running by. "I tried to convince the English to take me, but they thought I was too high-profile. I thought if I found the source of the signal—if I brought it back—I thought they'd take me!"

He doubles over, panting, and the room erupts into laughter.

 _"Not even a spy!"_ von Dort crows. _"A foolish American who wants to be one because he doesn't know what he's getting into."_

"See?" Kal asks, giving Bruce's hand a squeeze before finally letting go. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Bruce has no idea why, but right then he knows, without question, that Kal is on his side.


	10. Chapter 10

Kal's plan works perfectly. From the moment it's established that Bruce isn't a _real_ spy, his presence in the room is almost entirely ignored. Locked down as he is, a perpetual prisoner, he's no longer a real threat.

They're making a terrible mistake and they don't even have the presence of mind to recognize it.

The focus is, without question, on Kal. They want to learn all about him, and ask him an endless series of questions about his people. Where is he from? Krypton. Where is that? The answer he gives refers to a lot of stars they don't know, and when he attempts to draw a map they can only shrug.

Kal has questions of his own, the first of which is about space exploration, and he seems terribly disappointed when the gathered men explain to him the fact that no, they haven't gone to space, but they have rockets that can strike far-off targets now.

The trick with Kal's answers is that Bruce has absolutely no idea which ones are the truth. Now that he's come to realize that Kal is not only capable of lying but actively doing so it calls into question every answer he gives. He talks about Kryptonians having a strong focus on science, and about their guilds. They have a particular focus on Kryptonian weapons, and the idea of being able to simply sail between planets on ships.

 _"That was how I got here,"_ Kal adds. _"Although it seems my ship was destroyed upon landing."_

 _"That's something we're looking into,"_ von Dort says quickly. _"We're working on excavating what remains of your ship so that we can piece it back together."_

Well, that's bad. Bruce remains silent, watching the conversation and doing everything he can to minimize attention on him. The less they notice him, the better, and the more likely he'll be to get out of the room in one piece.

 _"Why were you sent here?"_ von Luger asks, leaning forward in his seat.

_"A long time ago, Krypton had strong ties throughout the universe. Unfortunately, after a major disaster involving the loss of our moon, we withdrew and remained isolated for quite some time. I was the first person to leave Krypton in more than two hundred years, although not everyone agreed."_

_"Your qualifications?"_ a man Bruce doesn't recognize asks as he leans forward. While Bruce is happy someone asked, he's wary about what Kal might say. There's no readily apparent reason that Kal would be chosen. He's nice, but niceness is far from an ideal qualification for an... ambassador? Assuming he's even considered that.

 _"My family is part of the science guild,"_ Kal says, seeming perfectly happy with the conversation. " _My father is considered one of Krypton's foremost scientists, and after some discussion it was decided that a scientist would be best for first contact. We weren't clear on the level of technology you would have, so it was important to have someone who would be able to survive regardless. An ambassador could simply speak with you, but they'd need a scientific background in order to be able to guarantee that they could resume contact with Krypton."_

The idea of it—of the Nazis ending up friendly with an intergalactic empire from beyond the stars—is somehow worse than the worst nightmare Bruce has ever had. Even if he can be fairly confident that Kal is on his side (or at least isn't on their side), the thought of what might have been if he hadn't pursued the signal haunts him.

What if their viewpoint was the only one Kal had gotten to hear?

As much as Bruce dreads the idea, everyone else in the room is excited. The reaction is unquestionably one of delight, and one tall man who Bruce is fairly sure is part of the propaganda ministry is clearly the most excited.

 _"You are capable of contacting your people? I'm sure we would be happy to assist you in this in any way."_ He glances to the baron, who gives a nod of confirmation, and even without him saying any more Bruce knows what he must be thinking. It's already a triumph for the Nazis to be the first country on Earth to have contact with alien life. To open negotiations with an entire civilization?

For others, their focus heads in a different direction. Many have questions about Krypton's military capabilities. They ask questions about the lost moon, and about weapons. They want to know what Krypton has to offer to the German army, and how those weapons could be used to win the war they find themselves knee-deep in.

Bruce listens to it all, filing away for later. Some of it might be important. Some of it might not. He has no way of knowing which is which, and all he can do is try and remember all of it. The possibility seems slim that he'll be separated from Kal, but it _does_ exist, and he can't risk it.

For the most part, he feels forgotten, or at least that's the impression he gets right up until the point when Baron von Luger suddenly addresses him. Bruce jerks in place, head turning away from Kal to look towards the senior-most official in the room, and finds himself suddenly at a loss.

_"You were born in America?"_

Bruce absolutely doesn't want to talk to _anyone_ in the room, least of all about his home life, but his options are severely limited, and he's not stupid enough to ignore someone who could order him killed then and there.

 _"Yes,"_ Bruce says, weighing his options and deciding that German is probably more respectful to answer in.

_"What state?"_

_"New Jersey."_

There are murmurs among the others in the room, discussing the implications. New Jersey is apparently the _decadent_ part of America, although Bruce isn't sure what that's supposed to mean.

The feeling of the room's focus on him is enough to make his skin crawl.

 _"You have found yourself in a very enviable position,"_ von Luger continues after a long pause. _"Our new friend needs you in order to manage here, and parading around a prisoner isn't something we want to do."_ His eyes drop down to Bruce's clothes, _prisoner_ stitched neatly in several places. There's no way someone could mistake him for anything else. _"You are an American by accident of your birth. I see no reason why you couldn't have a perfectly happy life here. A good position within the party, helping Kal find his way here. He will need an aide, someone familiar with Earth."_

The realization is not instant. It takes a moment for it to dawn on Bruce that he's being offered a job. A position. A rank, probably. The baron knows that there's value in Bruce's connection to Kal, and he wants to monopolize it.

He's giving Bruce a way out, and giving himself an advantage. If Bruce takes the job, his status—and life—will be secure. It'll also tie him to von Luger permanently; he'll owe the man his life, and von Luger will _absolutely_ cash in on that.

It's the best possible way for him to survive what's coming. Agreeing will let him have a normal life. A comfortable life. Probably even a position of actual power. He could take the deal and try to make things better here. He could use his influence to steer things in a better direction. Maybe he could stop the war.

But he can't. He can't sell out everything he has, everything he _is._

" _I'm afraid that wouldn't work out,"_ Bruce says. _"My cousin and her family are Jewish."_

The average person has heard only rumblings, but Bruce knows a great deal about what's happening in Germany. He knows about the laws and restrictions. He knows about the violence. He knows every awful thing they've done, and standing face to face with one of the men responsible for it all, he can't miss a chance to say it.

It's clear to Bruce who the true believers are. Some have an immediate negative reaction to his admission. Others look only mildly annoyed, more bothered by him turning down the offer than any connection he might have to Kate.

 _"Unfortunate,"_ the baron says, shaking his head and turning his attention away. Bruce is no longer a useful tool, and he's been mentally discarded almost instantly. Von Dort looks furious, glaring in Bruce's direction, but Bruce simply ignores him.

The only one whose reaction he really cares about is Kal, who looks at him with clear confusion. He probably has no idea what's going on, and Bruce doesn't have the ability to explain it to him right then.

 _"Kal,"_ the man from the propaganda ministry says, drawing everyone's attention. _"I believe you were going to tell us how you'd go about contacting your people..."_

Bruce is happy to let them move on. The less attention on him, the better.


	11. Chapter 11

It's a relief when the meeting wraps up, and he's even happier when they continue to keep him near Kal. There's a hotel not far away that's been emptied out for official use, and even if they dislike him, they apparently decide it isn't worth the effort to find him sub-standard food. Instead, they feed him the same thing they feed Kal and von Dort, and stick him in a room just beside Kal's. It's a nice room, in a nice hotel, and only the guards posted outside really remind him that he's a prisoner. Von Dort leaves to talk with Kal once Bruce is firmly in place, and Bruce takes advantage of the brief time alone to assess the situation.

The correct answer is unfortunately _not good._ At first Bruce is excited by the possibility of escape. The room has a balcony, and the guards have made no attempt to seal it off. His initial hope is that they've assumed that being three stories up will be enough to stop him, but when he looks down he finds the streets crawling with soldiers. Even if he _does_ manage to get to the ground floor, his clothes (or lack of clothes) will lead to his capture. Even hopping from balcony to balcony isn't likely to help much, because as far as the eye can see there's still more soldiers.

Instead, he turns his attention to bettering his situation. He strips off and showers, pleased to discover a small safety razor the Germans have missed. He weighs his options, and then opts to shave anyway. Looking halfway presentable is worth the risk of them finding it and taking it, and the tiny razor isn't going to do him much good as a weapon—his fists would be a thousand times more effective anyway.

It takes a bit to get his beard under control, and he decides against going clean-shaven out of concern for how long he'll have before the next shave. When he's done, he carefully cleans the razor and returns it to where he found it, heading back out of the bathroom. Maybe he can get some sleep. Maybe he'll finally be caught up on his rest.

Someone knocks on the balcony door, and Bruce nearly has a heart attack. He spins at the same time he tries to take a step back into the bathroom, nearly falling over, and only just manages to catch himself in time to register just who is doing the knocking. Kal is standing out on his balcony, his cape held in place with one hand to keep it from billowing out, and he's staring at Bruce excitedly as he gives him a wave.

Bruce reacts before he thinks, darting forward to open the door and ushering the man inside. Kal is, without question, not supposed to be there. He should be in his own room, and everything about the situation leaves Bruce's head spinning until he has a second to actually _think_ about it and come to the obvious conclusion.

"You climbed over?" he asks, and Kal nods.

"It took forever for them to leave me alone, but at the end I asked to be left alone so I could get some rest. I told them I needed more sleep than humans, and von Dort was happy to go get some of his own work done while I rested."

Bruce feels a rush of relief. He has no idea how long they have, but being alone with Kal is an opportunity he might not get again, and there are things he desperately needs to convey.

"They're lying to you," he blurts, his voice just above a whisper for fear of the guards hearing him. "These people are tyrants who are abusing those weaker than them. They've gone to war and invaded other countries, conquering them just to have more land. They've done horrible things—"

"I know."

Bruce's thought process slams to a halt, and he struggles to recover, his mouth hanging open slightly as he stares up at Kal.

"...You do?"

"The first thing I saw when I woke up was you, trying to help me. The second thing I saw was a man with a weapon pointed at me... and the _third_ thing I saw was you putting yourself between me and danger. They don't seem to think I understand what's going on, but I have a pretty good idea."

Bruce has vastly underestimated him. The Nazis have as well, but Bruce is smart enough to recognize his own failings, and that's one of them, without a doubt. So instead he changes tack on his line of discussion.

"What do you need to know?" Kal's competent, and he has a much better grasp of the situation than Bruce does. Bruce doesn't need to hold his hand through it.

Kal considers the question for a moment, and then offers a shrug.

"There's a lot of things I need to know. It's hard to figure out what's important. I think right now the most important thing is for me to know what happened earlier. They offered you a job?" He looks perplexed by the entire idea. "But then you turned it down."

A part of Bruce feels like he should be impartial. That he should give Kal a neutral summary of the situation as it stands. But there's no _being neutral_ when one side is advocating for genocide. Not taking a side _is_ taking a side, and there's no way for him to explain without making that clear with Kal.

"The Party—they call themselves the NSDAP or _the Party,_ but we call them Nazis—are a..." He keeps almost throwing in terms that probably won't have any meaning to Kal and having to correct. "They're the government of this country. They're... nationalists, and very racist, and they believe that Germany is the best country, period, which would almost be okay except the way they enact that is by implying that anyone who _isn't_ German is scum. They... they hurt a lot of people. They kill a lot of people. People who have lived in Germany for generations, but aren't German _enough._ People who believe in different religions or creeds. People who... feel certain ways. Anyone who opposes them is the enemy, and they've been systematically eliminating anyone who they feel weakens their country by any means possible. Some of those people were Jewish, which is... sometimes it's a religion and sometimes it's a race but that's beside the point. The point is that they've been doing awful, awful things, and if you stay here, they're going to find ways for you and your people to help them. If they can find a way to use this to win the war, then they will, no questions asked."

Kal's expression darkens with every word, and by the time Bruce finishes laying out the situation he might as well be a storm cloud. He clearly doesn't like anything he just heard, and that fact alone is enough for Bruce to feel relief.

He has an ally in this. There's still hope. They'll find a way to escape, make it back to the Allies, and then... and then figure it out from there.

"I won't let them," Kal finally says, his tone firm. "I was sent here on a mission of peace, and I won't let my people join in a war that's intended to... to hurt people."

Bruce doesn't feel the need to correct him that _all_ wars hurt people. Kal understands the general idea, and is doing very well for a person who might very well have not known half the terms Bruce just threw at him.

"They don't have a way to contact Krypton without me, so for now that isn't an issue. But we need to figure out what to do," he adds after a moment.

"We need to find a way to escape, but it won't be easy. They'll have both of us heavily guarded. Right now they're underestimating me, but that will only get us so far... if it gets you anywhere at all. We might—" He stops himself, almost unwilling to say it, and then decides that it has to be said. "We might have to separate. If an opportunity exists where I could escape, then I have to take it. I'll get out of Germany and go get help. I'll try and find a way to get back to you."

"You're the one in danger," Kal agrees. "They won't hurt me, no matter what happens, but you? If you push too far, they'll get rid of you and try and find another way to communicate with me. Teaching me German, or what have you. I don't think we're there yet, but if you try and run..."

If they try and run, he's as good as dead.

"I'll be careful," Bruce assures him. "The benefits outweigh the risk. If I can find a way to tell the Allies what I've learned, it could change the outcome of the war. _You_ could change the outcome of the war."

Kal's expression is not the one Bruce is hoping for. He's looking for determination, and instead he seems sad—almost resigned.

"I don't know how long it will be before they check on me," Bruce admits. "If you have any other questions, now would be the time." If the guards knock, Kal needs to leave immediately. They can't risk him being caught talking with Bruce alone.

"Can humans fly?"

Of all the absolutely insane questions Kal could have asked, that was _not_ the one Bruce was prepared for. He squints at him, waiting for some kind of an explanation, but Kal isn't forthcoming, and he's forced to answer.

"We have planes," he explains, wondering if he's misinterpreted the question. "There's an air force, which is a... a military for the air. Or passenger planes. The place I'm from is a long way from here—I took a plane to Switzerland before I snuck over the mountains."

"Oh, I know that," Kal says. "They told me a bit about rockets, and I figured they must also have transport. But I meant... personal humans. Single humans. Can you fly?"

The noise Bruce makes is _beyond_ exasperated, the question so patently absurd that he's struggling to understand why Kal would ask it twice.

"No, Kal," he says finally. "We can't fly. We don't have wings, for one."

"When I hopped over here from the other balcony, I felt..." Kal pauses, clearly choosing his words carefully. "Light. Like if I tried a bit harder I could just not come back down. It was a new experience, and I think it's because the gravity is reduced here. It certainly _feels_ lighter, and since I got out of those tunnels I've felt fantastic."

Bruce is struggling to believe what he's hearing. Maybe he's gone too long without sleep and started to hallucinate. Maybe this is some kind of alien mind control.

"You think you _might be able to fly?_ And you _haven't tried yet?"_

To his credit, Kal looks genuinely embarrassed by Bruce's question.

"Well, the thought really only occurred to me just now," Kal admits. "And there's not much space in here."

Bruce ushers him towards the door. Most likely Kal's just enjoying some kind of post-freeze recovery perkiness, but if he isn't...

"Try it out."

The sun's sinking towards the horizon as Kal steps out onto the balcony. He doesn't just go ahead and do it. Instead he stretches out, going through a warm up.

Bruce realizes he's probably nervous. If he's right, it changes everything. If he isn't, he just got Bruce's hopes up for nothing.

Bruce tries to be supportive.

"Just... give it a try. Just a little bit, so that no one sees."

Kal closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and hops.

He doesn't come back down. He simply hangs there in the air, the red of his cape billowing out behind him as he defies gravity in the most spectacular way Bruce can imagine. Bruce's jaw hangs open slightly, and the more he stares the more amazed he becomes.

This is it. This is the key, the answer. This is what he's been hoping for: a miracle.

Kal cracks an eye open, looking down, and then his face lights up with excitement.

"It worked!" he says, and Bruce has to signal for him to be quiet. "I can fly."

"You couldn't back on Krypton?"

"No, we seemed more or less the same as you do, in terms of physical capabilities. You haven't done anything I thought a Kryptonian wouldn't be able to do, and you haven't... _not_ done something I thought a Kryptonian could," Kal explains, shrugging his shoulders. "This is good?"

"This is very good," Bruce says. His brain's running a mile a minute. He's coming up with plans and problems with those plans and new plans to replace the first as fast as the speed of thought, and eventually he simply reaches out, touching Kal's arm. "Can you lift me?"

"I can try."

Kal doesn't seem quite certain how to lift him, so eventually Bruce just holds out his hand for Kal to take. Kal doesn't seem to have quite figured out flying, but he's _trying,_ and he takes Bruce's hand, carefully easing himself skyward until Bruce is on the tips of his toes.

This is it. If Kal can carry him, they can escape together. If he can't?

If he can't, Kal has to leave on his own. Bruce is under no illusions about what it will mean to him, but there's no other choice.

Kal _has_ to escape.

His feet leave the ground, and Bruce finds himself dangling from one arm as Kal floats in the air, his face lighting up with excitement.

"I... we're going to escape, right?" Kal asks. "I'll carry you away, and we can get away, and make it back to your people."

He eases Bruce back down, and Bruce reaches up, rubbing at his shoulder. Kal's certainly not going to _dangle_ him out of Munich, or at least its not possible without Bruce's arm coming out of it's socket.

"We're going to escape," Bruce confirms, letting himself feel actual hope for the first time in ages. "We're going to fly out of Munich."


	12. Chapter 12

Of course it's not as simple as just saying _we'll fly out._ There's the question of time, direction, destination, and of course how they'll even manage it. Bruce weighs his options in his mind, and comes to the conclusion more or less immediately that they're going to have to leave that night. Based on everything that he's been told, the plan seems to be for them to leave for Berlin in the morning, and the closer they get to the capital, the worse their odds of escaping. The position they're in right then is a good one to escape by air, and Bruce doubts they'll get any better in the future. 

They're on the fourth floor, high enough that they won't easily be spotted by the guards on the ground, and if they're lucky, the guards won't check on them for hours still.

It's also right about to be dusk. Leaving with the sunset is probably the best way to ensure their escape. Heading towards the sunset will blind anyone looking towards them as they leave the city, letting them vanish into the dark. 

Or that's the theory. A part of it is simply the fact that Bruce doesn't trust himself to navigate his way out of Munich in the dark. 

"We should leave now," Bruce says, his heart in his throat. "We might not get another chance."

"Now?" Kal asks, surprised. "Like, right now?"

"There's too big a risk if we stay."

Kal drops back down as Bruce tries to figure out how he's going to handle it. It's not as if they have things to carry, so it'll just be him and Kal, but even that feels... daunting.

"You'll have to lift me. One arm under my knees, the other around my back." If Kal drops him, he's dead, but Bruce is getting alarmingly used to the idea of one wrong move killing him. There's just so many things that could go wrong that if he lets himself worry about them at all, he'll simply shut down.

Kal looks less than certain about what Bruce is asking him to do, but he does as asked anyway. He bends down, scooping Bruce up bridal style.

"You're lighter than I thought," Kal admits, and Bruce hates every second of it. He _hates_ not having his feet on the ground, and he hates having to rely on someone else not to drop him. Having his life entirely in someone else's hands is downright agonizing, and he wraps his arm around Kal's shoulders for added support.

"You can fly with me like this?"

"I don't see why not," Kal says. "You seem as light as a feather to me." His expression grows more serious for a second, almost puzzled, and then he shrugs (an action which causes Bruce to shift in a way he doesn't like). "I don't think it's the gravity, but I'm not quite sure what it is. I'll have to narrow it down when we have a bit more time. I just feel... stronger than I did before."

"I'm sure there are plenty of people ready to help you figure it out when we land. But that's when we land."

Even assuming they don't run into any trouble, there's still a lot of issues with their situation. Navigating from the air is difficult in ideal conditions, and they're going to be running under something so far from ideal it won't even be visible. Bruce has only a vague knowledge of the layout of Europe, and they don't have a compass to help them navigate. 

He has a general sense that England is north-west of where they are, but he's fairly sure that the Netherlands (and maybe Belgium) stand in between him and England.

He doesn't know how fast Kal can fly, or at what altitude. He has a few advantages—he can estimate the air temperature, for one—but none that are going to help him figure out where to go. Even assuming they somehow manage to fly fast enough to reach England, what then? Bruce doesn't have the first idea where to go, and he's wishing he'd taken Alfred up on the invitation to visit the old man's birthplace all those years ago.

But in the end, he accepts he's just going to have to deal with it when he gets to it.

Kal takes off just as the sun is starting to sink, and Bruce lets out a noise of distress. His other arm comes up, wrapping tight around Kal's neck in a way that must be deeply uncomfortable, and he clings desperately. He feels unstable, and accepts right then that he _hates_ being carried, but things are quite literally out of his hands right then.

Kal soars into the sky, the red of his cape billowing out behind him, and Bruce regrets not having him take it off before they left. He hopes it vanishes into the red of the sky, but he's not stupid enough to believe they've left entirely undetected. Someone in Munich must have spotted them, but the sight at a distance must be so incomprehensible they might (if they're lucky) not even report it.

"Higher," Bruce says, and Kal angles himself upwards, rising higher and higher over the city.

There are clouds, but not many, and Bruce dismisses the idea of hiding in them. Too cold and too wet, so instead he nods to the west.

"Fly just to the right of the sun," he says, "or where the sun used to be. Just... just try and hold that one heading."

"Alright." Kal is quieter than Bruce is used to, and at first he thinks it's just him focusing on flying. But as the sun sinks he sneaks a glance at Kal's face (which isn't nearly as subtle as he'd like) and finds the man watching him carefully.

"I'm not going to drop you, you know."

"My heart hasn't gotten the message." His heart's still pounding away, adrenaline pumping in light of the fact that he's thousands of feet in the air, supported solely by Kal's arms. "Go higher."

By the time the sun is fully gone, Bruce estimates they're four or five thousand feet up. It's cold, but not quite freezing, and while the whole thing is deeply uncomfortable, he's not in any real danger. In the dark, he's all but given up on trying to navigate, catching only the occasional glimpse of lights below.

Cities, probably. Bruce's arms ache as he clings to Kal, cold and tired and hungry, and if he's completely honest more than a little bit miserable. He wants the flight to be over, and right then he isn't even sure if it's really _started._ For all he knows they're barely out of Munich, and it's impossible for him to really gauge Kal's speed.

"What should I be looking for?" Kal asks, speaking up to be heard over the wind whipping past them.

Bruce doesn't know what landmarks to point him to, so instead he relies on the simplest thing he can think of.

"Water," he replies. "The ocean. Water that's... that's absolutely vast. Not a little river, but..." He tries to find the right words, struggling to explain without knowing if Kal's world even _has_ oceans. "If we fly straight west towards the sun, we should eventually end up over water, but we won't make it to England. What we need to do is head... just north of directly west, so that we're going at an angle."

"Which angle?"

Bruce offers a prayer that angles translate properly.

"Forty-five degrees?"

Kal's expression intensifies as he tries to puzzle it out, and then he nods.

"And when we get there? What are we looking for?"

"There will be a... a channel. A lot of water, like a massive river. We're going to the large island on the other side. That's the United Kingdom." Hopefully England in particular, but Bruce isn't going to be picky.

Kal nods again, but says nothing, focusing on the flight.

It is a struggle to stay awake. The flying is undeniably monotonous, and Bruce finds himself nodding off, his grip slipping, several times during the flight. More than once he's sure he actually falls asleep, and yet he never wakes to find himself plunging to his death. Kal's grip is firm and reliable, and it keeps Bruce safe even as his own body fails him.

Bruce estimates they must have been flying for hours when Kal finally speaks again. To Bruce's alarm, Kal's exhaustion is actually _audible,_ even if his posture hasn't slacked at all.

"I don't know how much farther I can fly," he admits. "We need to come down soon."

Are they still over Germany? Belgium? Did they go too far west and end up over France? France wouldn't be too bad, but landing elsewhere would be extremely risky.

"Any sign of the water?"

Kal is silent, and Bruce swallows down his fears. They have to be out of Germany. As long as they're out of Germany—

"I think I see the water," Kal says. "What do I do?"

Bruce can't see a damn thing, but he trusts the flying man's senses over his own.

"Go lower. Look for... look for lights out in the water. A large ship. We want a ship with... a blue flag with a red and white... cross thing over it." The Union Jack isn't the easiest shape to explain, and Bruce isn't sure how well they'll be able to see anyway.

Kal dips lower. It seems to take a long time before Bruce can see the ocean. Even then, _seeing_ isn't really the correct term: he can vaguely hear it, and sometimes he gets the impression of the ocean, but all the details are lost.

"I can't help," Bruce says, trying to sound less desperate than he feels. "If you can see anything... I can't. Just... just look for lights. Or... or land on the other side."

"I can't see any," Kal says, his voice seeming more and more exhausted. Bruce is second-guessing their choice to go out over the water, because Kal seems to be going lower and lower, unable to sustain their flight.

"Kal," he says desperately. "Can we get back to shore? We need... we need to come down on land." If they come down on water...

"There's a ship," Kal says. "I'm... we're— We'll make it."

Bruce swallows down his anxieties, trying to spot the tiny pinpricks of light in the darkness that mean they've found a ship. He hopes beyond hope not just for a ship, but for the _right_ ship as they continue to sink.

Even when he sees it, it's too dark to see the flag. They're running quiet, with minimal lights, probably to avoid any u-boats in the area. It's a bad sign, and the fact that the water is coming up too fast for them to actually _reach_ the boat is even worse.

"Kal," he says again, even more desperately. "We need to make it to the ship. _Please."_

Kal's grip hasn't wavered, but Bruce is asking too much. Kal looks barely conscious, and they're ten feet above the water—and easily more than a hundred feet from the ship—when he simply gives out.

Bruce goes from flying to falling in an instant, hitting the cold water below back-first. The freezing chill of the Atlantic jerks him back to reality just in time to lose track of Kal, and after a second Bruce realizes to his ever-increasing horror that he can't see Kal because Kal is _underwater._

He dives. Kal isn't hard to find, having only just started to slip under, but it takes a considerable amount of energy to haul him back to the surface. For once, Kal being unconscious is a good thing: rescue swimming with dead weight is actually vastly easier to do than carrying someone who might end up working against him.

But it's still not easy. The water is cold and rough, and there seems like there's so much _space_ between him and the ship. He can't even tell which direction it's going, so all he can do is make sure he's headed the right way and start desperately swimming towards it, Kal pulled up tight against his body.

He can't let himself think about what happens if he doesn't reach it. He can't allow himself to think of anything other than the movement of his arm and legs.

 _Please,_ he prays to a god he hasn't spoken to in decades. _Please don't let him drown._

Holding desperately to Kal as he tows him through the sea, Bruce swims.


	13. Chapter 13

Bruce's time in the sea is amorphous. In his mind, it blurs together, a massive grey streak that defies explanation. He has no idea how long he spends swimming, unable to track anything other than the burn of his muscles and the way his body shivers more and more.

At some point—Bruce imagines it can't have been more than fifteen minutes at the most, but it feels like days—Bruce realizes that the ship must be close enough to have a chance that he'll be heard. He keeps swimming, but he sucks in a deep breath, trying to call out.

His first is lost in the wind and the sound of the churning sea, but the second is louder, and he hopes someone on deck will hear him.

"Hey!" he cries desperately, one arm holding Kal to his chest as he continues to swim. It's a problem he never before considered and now finds himself facing: even now that he's at the ship, he has no way of getting up. Is there supposed to be a ladder? He's not sure he has the energy to find it. He keeps sinking down into the water, unable to hold himself afloat as he desperately yells up, hoping someone will see him.

He wants to cry, but he doesn't have the energy for that either.

He almost doesn't recognize the life ring for what it is. It simply slaps down in the water just a few feet from him, and he stares stupidly at it before his cold, half-starved brain decides to remind him of what it is. He swims for it with newfound vigor, grabbing onto it with his free arm and letting out a wheeze. It's a small, one-man thing, but it's enough to keep him afloat, and his arm's all but frozen around Kal's chest, keeping him afloat as well. He turns his face up, trying to see who's on deck, but he's blind in the dark.

He can't even manage to call out. His body simply refuses, and it's taking everything he has just to keep holding on.

He's sure he passes out at some point, because one minute he's alone, bobbing in the sea with Kal at his side, and the next there's a lifeboat nudging towards him, a lantern held up for light.

"We should find out who he is," someone on the boat says in what is an undeniably English accent, and one of the others scoffs loudly.

"He's half drowned is what he is. If he's a Jerry, it's not like we're going to just leave him here."

They seem genuinely shocked when they reach him and find him not only awake (although only barely), but not alone. He makes them pull up Kal first, in all his finery, and only then does he allow them to lift him from the water.

"What in the hell is this one wearing?" someone asks, leaning over Kal. Someone else does the smart thing, reaching down to check his pulse, and Bruce feels a rush of relief when the man says he's alive.

Someone pulls a blanket around him, and Bruce huddles under it, his body shivering for warmth. He slips in and out, losing focus as things seem to skip around. He's on the deck, surrounded by people. A medic is looking at Kal. Someone's trying to ask him questions he can only half hear.

Someone gives him something warm, pressing it into his hands, and the smell is so delicious that Bruce doesn't hesitate, just tips the cup back and drinks it desperately. Soup. Hot soup that burns a bit as he scarfs it down, the warmth in his belly the only thing that's keeping him awake.

"Name?" someone asks him.

"Bruce Wayne," he manages to say. "I need to... I need to speak to someone in charge. Tell them I found the source of the signal."

He tries to say more, but simply isn't able to. The exhaustion is too much, and he slips into peaceful unconsciousness even while sitting up.

He goes in and out over the next few hours. Scenes come to him like dreams, intermixing reality and imagination. He remembers being put to bed. He remembers Kal and him, flying through the sky. He remembers someone changing him, peeling off his soaked clothing.

When he wakes— _actually_ wakes—Bruce finds himself in a small bunk. It's dark, with only a small electric light to guide him, and he's forced to let his aching body rest a bit before he can even make himself sit up.

His entire body hurts.

He finds Kal on the bunk above him, tucked in under the blankets. He looks to be sleeping peacefully, but Bruce double-checks his pulse anyway, finding it deep and steady.

Alive. That's all he needs.

He takes a bit longer to pull himself together, and then heads to the door of the tiny cabin they've been put in, knocking once. The door opens immediately, and he finds a soldier squinting at him in full uniform.

His Majesty's Royal Navy, or something like that. Bruce wants to say he's never been so happy to see the English, but it would be a lie: Alfred's too prominent in his life for it to be anything else.

"I really need to pee," he admits, because he most definitely does, "and then I should probably speak to whoever is in charge of the ship. It's... it's _extremely_ important." He's not sure he could overstate that enough. Kal is the most important thing in the world right then, and what happens with him will, one way or another, change everything.

"We got that impression," one of the guards says. "Head's this way."

He's escorted to the bathroom, and once he's there he takes proper inventory of his clothes. The jumpsuit's been removed, replaced with slacks and a t-shirt that doesn't really fit, but they're dry and that's all Bruce can really ask for right then. The shoes he has on are uncomfortable, but at the very least he has underwear, which is something he was genuinely worried about.

It's not what he'd like to be wearing, but it's a hell of a lot better than what he _has_ been wearing.

The sailor's all too happy to take him up to the captain once he's done, and Bruce is relieved when he doesn't have to wait around. There's six men waiting for him, all dressed in uniforms that convey a great deal of rank, and all of them stand up straight when Bruce arrives, accompanied by his escort.

"Bruce Wayne," one says, nodding to him. "We were just discussing your situation."

Bruce can barely remember what he said the night before, but he hopes it was helpful.

"It's important that Kal and I—"

"That's the man you were with?" a man—the captain?—interrupts, and Bruce nods immediately before starting again.

"I understand this isn't my ship, and you aren't my countrymen, but it's of vital importance that I get to... to whoever is officially in charge of the war effort with him. We've just escaped from Munich and have a great deal of information that needs to be passed on."

"Right now we're wondering how you managed to get here from Munich," the captain says, raising an eyebrow, his hands folded neatly behind him. "That's quite some distance, and we found you in the middle of the water."

Just for a moment, Bruce imagines it. He imagines saying that he flew there, and that his guest is an alien. He imagines how _absurd_ that would sound, considering that none of them actually saw him fly, and does the only thing he can in that moment.

"Classified."

The captain's eyebrow goes even higher.

"I understand you're curious, Captain—" He's pretty sure he's a captain, and the man doesn't correct him, "—but I need to get to London. Or at the very least to some place with a phone."

He so desperately needs a phone. He can only imagine what they think has happened to him. Alfred must be beside himself with worry, _and_ that's assuming they don't just straight-up think he's dead.

"You're an unknown American who we just pulled out of the ocean, who won't answer our questions, and who we have no obligation to. You'll remain where you are, and when we get to land we'll hand you over to the appropriate authorities."

It's apparently _no more Mr. Nice Guy,_ and Bruce takes a deep breath, straightening up a bit.

"Please," he says desperately. "It's very important. I need you to pass the message as high up the chain as you can. Tell them Bruce Wayne found the source of the signal."

"And what signal would that be?"

The noise Bruce makes is a step beyond exasperated.

 _"The_ signal," he says. "They'll know what it means. It's important."

He doesn't get a yes or a no. Instead, he's escorted back to the little room he's sharing with Kal. Bruce wants to call it a _brig_ , only it's more of a tiny hallway, or maybe a prisoner's quarters. It's really just the two bunks, with very little space and not much to speak of.

Kal is still sleeping, his breathing and pulse steady, but he shows no signs of waking even when Bruce tries. To Bruce's surprise, Kal is still in the same outfit he was in before, his cape and other clothes bone dry. Either they didn't try and change him, or they couldn't figure out how to get it off.

It doesn't matter.

He rests until they deliver food, which is unappetizing at best and obviously whatever was left from the mess hall. He's antsy, and he finds himself pacing back and forth as he waits for something— _anything_ —to happen.

The longer Kal sleeps, the more concerned he gets. Even as tired as he was, Kal _should_ be waking up, and he simply isn't.

"Kal," he murmurs quietly, "I really need you to wake up now."

But of course he doesn't.

Someone knocks at the door, and Bruce turns, expecting to find his guard coming to pick up the dishes Bruce has left in the corner. Instead, he finds the captain, who looks _extremely_ awkward as he steps inside.

"There's been a change," he admits, and just from his demeanor Bruce knows what that change is. "I've received orders to do everything in my power to assist you, and all branches of the military are to help you on to London as fast as reasonably possible."

Bruce lets out a sigh of relief. He's not going to begrudge the captain for having locked him down in the circumstances, but he's eager to be off the ship as fast as possible.

"What's happening, then?"

"We have orders to hold course," the captain explains. "The Air Force is sending a small seaplane to collect you and your passenger. Thankfully, the water's calm enough to handle it, so it should be here soon."

If they're lucky, they'll make it to London before the sun sets, and at least part of the nightmare will finally be over.

"We should..." Bruce pauses, takes a deep breath, and tries to rephrase as best he can. "Would it be possible to move Kal up onto deck now? I'd like for him to be ready to go when the plane lands." He doubts keeping him down below in a tiny bunk will do him much good, and Bruce is starting to worry about dehydration.

"I'll see to that," the captain says immediately. "Might I recommend you stop by the mess and get some proper food for yourself?" He eyes the empty bowl, and Bruce gets to his feet, stretching out and firmly ignoring the bowl.

He's still hungry, so it's worth doing.

"Please be careful with him," he says, wary to have them moving Kal at all, but too hungry to actually put it off.

"We will. One of my men will make sure you get something to eat." The captain nods to one of the guards—former guards—who looks all too happy to show Bruce to his lunch.

For that matter, Bruce is happy too.


	14. Chapter 14

Bruce eats in record time, all too eager to check on Kal. The moment he's done, he asks to be taken up, and finds himself escorted onto the deck. Kal isn't even there yet, but he doesn't have long to wait before he's brought up on a back board, carried by a pack of soldiers.

He stirs almost immediately when he reaches the deck, which is a positive sign, but settles back down once they've got him comfortable under a shade. It's not what he's hoping for, but it's at least a positive sign, and Bruce settles down beside Kal to wait.

He hears the plane long before he can see it, and he watches with relief as the plane lands in the water just off the side of the ship. The one they're on is larger than Bruce expected, but then he knows very little about things like the navy, and he has only the vaguest sense of what he's even dealing with. Another time he'd probably be genuinely interested in the goings-on, but right then he simply doesn't have the emotional energy to care all that much.

There's no easy way to transport Kal off the ship and down to the waiting plane, but the navy seems intent on doing just that. Bruce has no time or interest in seeing how they manage it, so he simply bends down, wrapping his arm across Kal's back and hauling him up. Kal is more or less dead weight, but Bruce can manage to carry him along. Getting down to the waiting boat below is easy enough, but getting Kal loaded into the small plane is unpleasant. It's a small plane, with only enough room for three plus the pilot, and he loads Kal in first before climbing in himself.

"Please get us out of here," he says wearily to the pilot. "London?"

"I'm under orders to get you to London," the man confirms. "Apparently you're important enough they're closing off a part of the Thames so I can land in there, which is why the plane is so small."

Bruce simply assumed it was the only plane handy, but if they're going to land in London itself, so be it.

Kal wakes midway there. He's resting against the side door, and as the plane banks his eyes flutter open. He looks confused, which is entirely fair, and Bruce simply reaches out, tapping his shoulder.

"We're in a plane," he explains. "Just a small one. We made it to the ship, got into contact with the people we needed to contact, and now we're flying to London."

"...London?" Kal asks groggily.

"The capital."

"Of your home?"

"Not my home," Bruce confirms, patting Kal's shoulder. "Try and rest, we've got a bit longer before we arrive."

Despite Bruce's attempts to reassure him, Kal doesn't sleep. The longer he's awake, the more together he seems, and by the time they start descending into London he's fully awake, wide-eyed and gawking out the window.

"So who are we meeting here?" Kal asks, not even turning to look at Bruce as he asks.

"Hard to say." Bruce isn't entirely clear what the chain of command is, or where _bringing an alien to London_ must rank. "We'll find out when we get there, but at the very least someone at the tip-top of the military."

Kal's expression darkens, and he says nothing more.

They land on a stretch of the Thames that's been closed off to boat traffic. It's not exactly a subtle landing, with a pack of soldiers on each side of the stretch warding away the public. There are vehicles waiting for them but no one of any real rank, and they're loaded into the cars more or less immediately. Climbing in, Bruce gets the sense that Kal's uncomfortable, but in such close quarters and surrounded by so many people, it's not as if he can just ask.

"We're not far," one of the men says. "Supposed to take you up to the hall."

The hall turns out to be a big, old, and very official looking building. It seems strongly familiar to Bruce, but not so much as the man he meets just inside the door: the earl of Halifax, Edward Wood.

"Mr. Wood," Bruce says, offering his hand. They've never met, but that doesn't change that he's _very_ familiar with the man. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you alive at all," Wood says, shaking his hand. "The Americans are beside themselves over the fact that you were... ah, believed missing or dead down in Switzerland. Hearing that they pulled you out of the Channel was quite a surprise." His eyes wander over to Kal, who's smiling brightly at the man. "And this is?"

"This is Kal-El," Bruce says. "I believe it would be best if we moved somewhere private so I can explain what I found."

Wood is happy to oblige him, and there's already a room prepared for them. It's fancy, ornate, and clearly intended for business meetings, so Bruce is all too happy to sink down into a chair, letting out a happy but tired sigh of relief.

Now all he needs is some decent clothes.

"I took a chance and went over the border," he explains. "I traced the signal to a cave system not far into Austria, and ended up underground for quite some time. While there, I found a large..." He pauses, momentarily at a loss as to how to even describe it. "A large... unnatural part of the cave system. Chunks of metal. Ice. Down there I found a man, frozen in a column, and managed to melt the ice and..."

"I think you're skipping over some parts," Woods says, looking more confused than anything else. "From the top?"

So Bruce does, going from the very beginning through to the end. He doesn't bog the story down in extra details, but gives him the general idea: Kal is an alien, the Nazis found them, the trip to Munich...

He's vaguely surprised when Kal jumps in midway through the story.

"I was lucky to have Bruce there," he says. "If the Nazis had found me first, I'd probably only speak German, and I doubt I'd have ended up here." It's nice to hear that Kal likes him, but the way he phrases it certainly makes him sound a lot more dependent on Bruce than he would actually be. That feeling is only cemented when Kal finishes the story, completely leaving out the clarification that he doesn't _actually_ need Bruce around in order to communicate.

He's letting the English believe that Bruce's presence is mandatory.

Bruce doesn't correct him, keeping a straight face, and instead watches Wood, who's staring intently at Kal, taking him in.

"You could have passed for human," Wood admits, "so hearing that you're anything but is... surprising. The ability to fly, though..."

"I'm not quite recovered," Kal says, "but I could do a bit."

He doesn't wait for Wood to confirm, just stands, lifting off the ground only a few inches before easing himself back down. A simple enough proof of concept, and Wood sinks back into his seat, taking a moment to adjust.

"There's not a policy for this," he admits. "Not that I'm aware of, anyway. An alien..."

"I think the most important thing will be intervening with regards to Kal's ship," Bruce says. "Or what remains of it. There's no telling what the Nazis would be able to get out of it."

"Nearly impossible," Wood says immediately. "What you're describing is sandwiched directly between Germany and Italy. We'd have to do a full frontal assault on Germany just to get there, and what you've described... we'd need to excavate..."

"I understand this would be difficult, but what they could find in that ship..."

He looks to Kal for insight, who offers a weak shrug.

"I'm not entirely clear on what technology you do or don't have," he admits, "but it does seem that ours was ahead of yours. The best course of action would likely be for me to regain contact with my people. They would be able to send a ship to retrieve the damaged remains of my own, making the issue a moot point."

"That would be a relief," Bruce says. He's sure more or less every government on the planet would love to get their hands on Kryptonian technology, but Bruce would be just as happy with none of them having it. "Is that something you can... _do?"_

"I don't see why not," Kal says with a shrug. "I would need supplies, but I could make whatever you don't have. That's part of why I was picked at all: because if we sent someone more... politically minded, they might not have been able to make contact at all."

"I... need to brief the cabinet," Wood says with a shake of his head. "This it all rather overwhelming. First contact and all that. I'll have some food brought in for the two of you." His eyes sweep over Bruce's less than adequate attire. "And some clothes for you, Mr. Wayne."

"That would be appreciated," Bruce says, "but I was hoping for a phone."

"A— this is a matter of national security for every country, and you want a phone?"

Bruce can't even blame Wood for being exasperated.

"I want to call home and let them know that I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere," Bruce says. He doesn't mention who he's calling, because he can only imagine how a member of the _peerage_ would react to finding Bruce is concerned about his butler. "I'll keep it brief and discreet."

Wood lets out a weary sigh, but does wave someone over. There's no phone in the room, so he (and Kal, who won't leave his side) are escorted into yet another side room, where a dignified-looking man explains how the phone system works. Of course he's monitored as he makes the call, but he expects nothing less as he works his way through the operator, giving them the proper numbers and hearing the phone ring.

"Gotham 493," Alfred's voice says on the other end, and Bruce doesn't have the self control to stop himself from making a noise of pure unadulterated relief.

"Al," he says quietly, trying not to make a scene. "It's me."

"Master— Master Bruce, is that you? Please tell me you're safe."

"Safe as houses." He feels like something inside of him that was broken has suddenly been fixed, and he lets out another small sigh of relief. "I can't talk—it's quite a long distance, but I'm safe and in good hands, Alfred. I don't know when I'll be able to come home, but I imagine you'll be hearing from me soon."

"I can't say enough how much of a relief it is to hear that you're all right. Things have been... well, quite distressing here, waiting to hear if you'd been found."

"I know, and I'm sorry to worry you like that. I didn't mean to worry you, but things got... overwhelming."

"As long as you're safe, that's all that matters," Alfred says. "And I hope I can hear from you again soon."

"Of course. I'll speak to you again as soon as I can."

It hurts saying goodbye, but it's necessary, and he hangs the phone up anyway.

He has things to do, even if he _does_ desperately miss Alfred.


	15. Chapter 15

Bruce has always been used to dealing with the upper crust of society, but when the entire royal family—King, Queen, and less than enthusiastic children—meet them it's a little bit too much. The royal family are lovely and ever so polite to Kal, welcoming him on behalf of the country (and the world), before inviting both him and Bruce to take tea with them.

The ministers are far more formal about things. They want to know everything about the situation, which necessitates a whole lot of explaining things that they've already explained to other people.

Bruce lets Kal do a great deal of the talking, growing more and more tired as the day moves on. It's not anything that anyone's done (or that they haven't done), but instead the aftereffects of talking to Alfred. It's a pining, a desperate longing for home, and a realization that all his relief about things being over when they arrived in London were as far as possible from the truth as it's possible to be.

They're not even close to finished.

They have dinner with a swarm of British officials who shower Kal with praise and attention. Bruce is of interest to them, but only really as an afterthought. Kal is the star of the show, and Bruce is happy to let him be so.

But he's far happier when it's announced that they'll be staying in a hotel that night.

St. Ermin's is a respectable and downright gorgeous old building, the kind of prestige hotel that Bruce would stay in if he'd come on business. He doesn't stick out by virtue of a suit the government's provided for him, but Kal does, still in his Kryptonian finery. They're allowed to go to their rooms, and Bruce lets out a sigh of relief when barely a moment after the door closes someone knocks and he opens it to find Kal waiting outside.

There are guards, but they wait instead at the end of the hall by the elevators, rather than right outside the door. They're there for Bruce and Kal's _security,_ not to keep them prisoner, and the difference isn't lost on him.

"I thought they'd never leave," Kal says, striding right on in as Bruce closes the door behind him. "They seem much more polite than the last batch."

"Well, this batch are our allies, for one," Bruce says. The rooms they've been given are nice, and Bruce sinks down into one of the chairs, letting his body rest. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better than I was this morning. I sort of thought you were angry, because you were so quiet... or that they weren't actually the friends you were saying they were."

It's entirely possible that the room has been bugged, and Bruce knows it. For that matter, it's equally possible (maybe even more so) that the hotel room they were staying at in Munich was bugged. But Bruce has no idea how long they'll be there, and he simply _can't_ act as if it's bugged.

He'll go insane.

"No," he says. "They aren't... this isn't my country, but they're still allies. Alfred, the man I spoke to on the phone, is from here." He pauses for a moment, his face scrunching up, and then squints at Kal. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"You seemed quiet on the flight over," Kal says, and then opts to clarify. "The flight in the plane. I did drop you in the water."

"You ran out of energy and nearly drowned yourself," Bruce huffs. The idea of being mad at Kal for that is absurd. "I'm not angry. I'm just... a little bit tired." A lot tired, but he doesn't want Kal feeling guilty. "Give me a few days and I'll be just fine, all right?"

There's a knock at the door when Kal opens his mouth to answer, and they both go momentarily silent.

"I'll get it," Bruce says, getting to his feet and heading to the door. It's not like there's any issue with Kal being there, but he's wary just the same.

When he opens the door, it's a member of the hotel staff waiting outside, smiling politely at him and giving a quick nod when the door first opens. Almost immediately he reaches out, offering a small card to Bruce.

"I was asked to give you this," he says, "and invite you down to the hotel bar, if you're interested."

The card's from the hotel, and contains only a simple handwritten note: _Our mutual friend, Alfred._ It's enigmatic and largely meaningless to most people, but Bruce's mind immediately snaps to the man Alfred introduced him to the month before, the man who kicked off the whole damn thing.

"Both of us?" Bruce asks, glancing up to the bellboy, who shakes his head.

"Just you, Mr. Wayne."

"Thank you," Bruce says, giving a quick nod. "I'll be down in a bit."

The bellboy leaves, and Bruce turns to Kal, who's looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Someone you know?"

"A contact from... you remember how I told you that someone pointed me towards the signal? I think one of them is waiting."

"You should go talk to him," Kal says. "I can wait here."

He doesn't volunteer to wait in his own room, a fact that Bruce is quietly happy for, so Bruce opts not to make the man wait.

"I'll be back in a little bit," he says, shooting Kal a smile. "I won't be gone long." A part of him is wary about the very idea of leaving Kal alone at all, but it's not as if they'd be far away, and he's hoping to hear... well, _some_ kind of good news, even if he can't imagine what it would be.

Most likely it's just going to be him re-explaining everything he's already explained multiple times.

He's surprised to find the guards missing when he heads down to the elevator, and tries not to pay too much attention to the operator as they ride on down. The entire hotel seems strangely quiet as he heads down to the bar, which is _completely empty,_ save for a lone man sitting in a chair, two drinks already at the ready.

Suspicious doesn't begin to cover it.

"Mr. Wayne," the man calls, beckoning Bruce over. He's not the same man Bruce met before, but he's the same sort of type. Bruce can't help but be wary, given the circumstances, but he's not about to just leave.

"I didn't get your name," Bruce says, offering his hand and getting a quick shake in return. He settles into one of the chairs across from the man, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The whole situation feels eerie, and the emptiness of the bar only adds to it.

"I'll get directly to the point," the man says. "For the good of king and country, you would stay here. You'd remain safely guarded by the soldiers stationed here, and you'd no doubt lend a great deal of energy to the war effort."

Something about the way he says it manages to put Bruce even _more_ on edge.

"But for the greater good, you'll return home."

"I'm not leaving without Kal," Bruce says immediately. The idea of parting ways is an immediate no for a variety of reasons that even Bruce himself can't quite think up right then. He just knows, deep in his gut, that it's a _no._

"We aren't asking you to. Every German spy in the country is searching for you, and no doubt someone's already reported back. Berlin desperately wants the spaceman back, and they'll be coming for him in any way they can manage."

It shouldn't be new information. There was never any question in Bruce's mind that Berlin would want Kal under their control. But hearing it said so directly makes his mouth go dry.

"So it's important the two of you are safely returned to America. You're rich beyond the imagining of the common man; the security you can afford is beyond what could be offered here."

Bruce takes a moment to actually _think_ about the situation, twirling it around in his head, and comes to the obvious conclusion.

"It's also advantageous to you," he says. "If Berlin attacks America to get to me, it would almost certainly drag us into the war."

There's a flicker of a smile, gone in an instant.

"You're a smart man, Mr. Wayne. I won't insult you by pretending otherwise. For us, it's a situation we can't lose: either you remain safe beyond Berlin's reach without us having to lift a finger to protect you, or we end up with America on our side. While I have no doubt that Mr. El will be instrumental in the war effort overall, so long as he's not on Berlin's side, we're perfectly happy for him to end up in the hands of our allies."

Put so succinctly, Bruce is having a hard time objecting. There are a number of advantages, and it's not as if he could be blamed for leaving. After all, he's just been warned that German spies might make a move on them, and nothing about that is good.

"It's not as simple as getting a ticket and flying home," Bruce points out, and the man simply waves off the concern, nodding towards the door. Bruce turns in his seat, spotting a leather bag sitting just by the entrance to the bar.

"All the supplies you should need. You're a worldly man who's been all over and climbed mountains and all that. I'm sure you can use a sextant and the charts inside to find your course to, say, the Azores, which would be a convenient stopping point for the two of you. I understand you flew from Munich to where you were found by our navy overnight... if so, you should be able to make it there with hours to spare. Making it to North America will be trickier, but I'm confident you can manage."

Bruce can think of a dozen options—most of which involve leapfrogging off a ship at some point—but there's a more pressing issue.

"Does it have to be tonight?"

He has some speculation about just how Kal gets his energy, and he doesn't want to risk plunging into the middle of the Atlantic.

"It doesn't have to happen at all, technically," the man says, steepling his fingers. "But the sooner the better."

The sooner the better. Bruce simply nods, getting to his feet, and offers the man his hand.

"Then I should be going," he says. "I doubt I'll see you again, so I won't bother saying it."

The man offers a rare smile and stands, shaking Bruce's hand.

"Goodbye, Mr. Wayne. And good luck on your trip."

"Let's hope we don't need luck."

He's really, really hoping as much.


	16. Chapter 16

Kal is waiting for him when he gets back to the room, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the bag Bruce is holding.

"I'll get to the point," Bruce says immediately. "We were just _strongly advised_ to fly to America as fast as you can carry us. The Germans are on the move and there's some concern they'll try and grab you here."

"Can they do that?"

Bruce offers a shrug. Kal can fly, which severely limits their options, but Kal also seems like the sort of person who'd surrender if a spy held a gun to Bruce's head.

"I think it's probably a good idea for us to leave rather than lingering here," Bruce says, setting the bag down and sorting through it. It has all the supplies he expected: canteens (already filled), some emergency rations, a compass, maps (with neat little notes), a state-of-the-art sextant... "But I have some concerns about leaving tonight."

"Because my flight appears to be solar-powered?" Kal asks, and Bruce's head snaps up, eyes narrowing.

"You knew?"

"I speculated the same way you did," Kal offers with a shrug. "I can't say for sure, but it makes sense. I feel... _better_ in the sunlight. Taking off was reasonably easy, but the longer we flew the more tired—and slower—I got."

"They've suggested a destination that's a shorter flight than Munich to here," Bruce says, pulling out the simplest map and pointing to their destination. "I think our best scenario is to get a good night's rest here and leave with first light. We'll see what kind of time we can make to our destination—" He's careful not to say it out loud, just in case. "—and then decide how we'll carry on from there."

"No objections," Kal replies. "We're going to your home, right? I mean, at the end."

Bruce nods and sets about repacking the bag. He wants to make sure they're ready to go, and he's almost done when he realizes that Kal is still standing there, staring at him pointedly.

"...What?" Bruce asks, suddenly wary. He can _sense_ the curveball coming, and he wants to be ready for it.

"I know you said you weren't angry, but I still feel like there was something wrong."

"I was kidnapped and dragged around Germany," Bruce huffs. "Of course there was something wrong. It was nothing to do with you."

"When we flew, though..."

Bruce doesn't even know how to reply to that.

"When we flew what?"

Kal doesn't respond right away, humming and hawing as he tries to determine just what he wants to say. When he does, Bruce feels like his head is spinning.

"It seemed like you didn't like being carried like that."

Oh, boy.

"Why don't we step outside," Bruce says. "I want to get some fresh air, and we might as well take advantage of it."

There's no sun to be gained from being outside, but the fresh air is nice, and Bruce figures they're less likely to have someone listening in on them outside. The balcony is sizable, with plenty of seating, and there's no one out and about below.

"There's a lot of... complicated parts of that," Bruce says with a sigh. "Humans are very divided. I... do Kryptonians even have, ah, sexes?"

"Yes," Kal says simply, offering no further elaboration.

Bruce does _not_ want to have to explain the concept of gender roles, so he's forced to do what he can and give a very abridged version.

"Traditionally, there are things men are supposed to do, and things women are supposed to do. Being... carried the way you did would be called _bridal style,_ because the man generally... ah, carries the bride that way on their wedding day."

Kal blinks at him, and Bruce lets out another overly weary sigh.

"It is... generally considered bad for a man to act in a way that's similar to a woman."

Kal blinks at him again.

"...That seems strange."

"It's... a very complex issue," Bruce says. They're maybe twenty words in and he's already very, _very_ done with the conversation. "I'm not really qualified to explain it to you."

"So you were uncomfortable because, by carrying you that way, I made you act in a way that would be considered womanly?"

Bruce considers leaping from the balcony then and there. The conversation is _extremely_ uncomfortable, and the faster he gets it over with, the better.

So he cuts to the chase.

"No," he says. "I was uncomfortable because you're attractive and I had to spend several hours cradled in your arms."

Bruce's brain catches onto what he's just said a moment after he's said it, but there's no way to take it back. He tamps down on his embarrassment by reminding himself that Kal most definitely does not care. He's been nothing but friendly and professional, and he's from _space_ —he doesn't have any of the biases a human might have.

Which is a whole separate problem, now that he thinks about it.

"I should clarify that isn't something you should repeat," he says quickly. "Humans have a lot of... rules... about who people should or shouldn't find attractive."

Kal's expression hasn't really changed. He's still stuck on _mildly perplexed,_ like he doesn't know quite what to make of anything Bruce has just said.

"...You understand?"

Kal pauses, and then nods. A second later, it looks like he's second-guessing himself, and leans forward ever so slightly.

"Can you explain why it's bad, though?"

"It's not _bad,"_ Bruce says hastily. He doesn't want to give Kal the wrong idea. "Most humans only feel attracted to the opposite sex. A lot of people feel that... liking the same sex is wrong."

"And you like the same sex? You like men?"

Kal's gaze feels like fire on his skin, and Bruce swallows down his anxiety. What if Kryptonians _do_ care about that sort of thing?

"Yes. But it's important that you not speak to anyone about that." If Kal tells the wrong person...

"I won't," Kal says. "I just think it's fascinating."

Bruce doesn't know how to respond to that. He stares at Kal, incredulous, struggling to figure out what's _fascinating_ about his miserable situation.

"...Fascinating," he says flatly. "Fascinating in what way?"

"Kryptonian interpersonal relationships seem to follow a much different standard," Kal says. "Our relationships are casual, but marriages are often decided to help strengthen ties between the high houses. It wouldn't be considered in any way strange for a Kryptonian to feel attracted to someone of the same sex, although it would generally be expected that they marry someone of the opposite sex. Heirs are highly valued, and the birthing matrix—"

"The what?"

All of a sudden it's Kal's turn to look confused.

"The birthing matrix?" He looks more confused by the second. "Oh! You probably don't have a birthing matrix—"

"You keep saying those words, but they don't mean anything to me." Bruce isn't even sure if they're being translated right.

"Kryptonian children are created by mixing the DNA of two adults with the birthing matrix. That generates the child, and incubates them until they're old enough to function safely. We've been doing it that way for... oh, hundreds of years now. It's far more efficient and safer than traditional births, which is how I assume you handle things."

Bruce feels like he should probably be sitting down right then. His head is spinning at the very idea, and the more he learns about Krypton, the more absurd it seems. Having children via some kind of _science pod._

There are a lot of implications and Bruce doesn't want to think about any of them right then.

"Why don't we go to bed," Bruce says, wondering if he's even going to be able to sleep. "I'll come wake you up first thing, and we can leave from your room."

"I don't see an issue with that," Kal says. "I'll see you in the morning." He seems mostly unaffected by the conversation they've just had, and Bruce feels anything but. He's _very_ bothered, and all too happy to see Kal off to his room.

As interesting as the information he's just learned is, he wishes nothing more than to take the entire conversation back.


	17. Chapter 17

They leave at first light. Bruce isn't cruel enough to leave without a word, so he writes a letter and leaves it on the pillow, excusing himself to go get Kal. He keeps the content of the letter mercifully brief and direct: they've been warned the Germans are after them, and for their own safety are leaving quickly in a way that will be difficult to track.

Kal is waiting for him, and he doesn't comment at all on their conversation the day before as he picks Bruce up. Bruce cradles the bag in one arm, but he's more prepared this time, having carefully tied the bag to himself to keep it from falling. Without a compass they're at serious risk of getting lost over the ocean, and without water they're liable to end up dropping.

Or Bruce is, anyway. He's not even sure Kal needs water at all. There's so much about him that's a great big question mark, and Bruce makes a mental note to ask more questions once they're away from the most pressing danger.

Bruce does what he can to make the flight easy. He already knows the exact heading they should be flying towards to reach the Azores, and checks their approximate location as best he can. He's not a trained expert, but he can manage a sextant and a nautical chart.

There's no question in Bruce's mind that Kal is flying a great deal faster than he was when they first flew together. His speed is high enough that conversation becomes nearly impossible, and Bruce has to effectively flag for him to slow down any time he needs to convey information or take another reading. Bruce doesn't have the head for sums to figure out just how fast they're flying, but he knows that the answer is _fast._

They reach the Azores after less than three hours flying. Their time is _excellent,_ and Bruce realizes he's made an error with his calculations. Flying west, they're flying with the sun, and they have far more than the usual sixteen-or-so hours of daylight they might have otherwise had.

"You're not tired?" Bruce asks as Kal stops over the islands. They're high enough up that Bruce has no concerns about being spotted, and he suspects that Kal is thinking the same thing he is.

"Not at all," Kal answers. "Honestly, I feel better than I have in a long time."

"The sun, then."

"Most likely," Kal says. "The feeling's less strong when we're under cloud cover. If you're hungry, we can go down and eat."

"We have jerky," Bruce says. "I'm fine for carrying on if you want to try and make it today."

Bruce desperately _does_ want to make it home. He's never felt so homesick in his life, and he'd easily skip every meal for a week if it meant being able to sleep in his own bed and have breakfast with Alfred.

"Then we carry on. Direction?"

"Due west. Just... fly until you see land."

They leave the Azores behind, tearing across the sky. Without having to constantly reassess their heading, Kal goes even _faster,_ and as the sun reaches its peak and starts to sink he puts on more and more speed. Bruce feels like his _bones_ are vibrating out of their sockets, and hour after hour the flight becomes more miserable. They're flying too fast for him to possibly sleep, and the chill is bad enough that he's constantly uncomfortable. They can't talk, and that leaves him with nothing to do but think for hours.

By the time Kal tells him he's spotted land, Bruce is absolutely _done_ with the concept of flying. If he ever flies again, it'll be years too soon.

"Just take us down so I can get a better idea of the area," Bruce calls as Kal begins to slow down. The sun's nearly set by the time _Bruce_ can see land, but what he does see seems familiar.

"...I think we're close," Bruce says, craning his neck as he tries to shift position without falling out of Kal's arms. It's hard to tell exactly where they are, but the shape of the curve _does_ seem familiar, and he's fairly sure they arrived south of Gotham. Not even that far south, either: when they move north, Bruce recognizes more and more.

"We're... well, we can't even be an hour's drive from Gotham."

"Is Gotham where we're going?"

"Gotham's my home, yes. It's the city I live in." They fly up the coast, and Bruce wonders how many people have spotted them. He doesn't want the extra attention near the house, but he also doesn't mind people seeing them this far away.

The sun is well and truly down by the time Bruce spots the bay and gestures for Kal to go lower. They're flying relatively slowly, and Bruce feels like every muscle he has is cramped as he points towards the manor up on the hill. Most of the lights are off, but there's a few still lit, telling Bruce that Alfred's still keeping his usual schedule.

"There. Come down in the back, if you can."

Bruce is wary of scaring anyone, and is for once happy for Alfred's insistence on keeping a small staff. Most of the work is done during the day, and the only one who stays on the property is Alfred himself. It means he _should_ be alone, which is exactly the way Bruce wants him when he shows up back in America with an alien in tow.

Mercifully, Alfred _doesn't_ notice them landing in the backyard. If he had, he'd have witnessed Bruce's less than graceful near-collapse when Kal finally set him down, his legs buckling under him. The only reason he doesn't end up on the ground is that Kal catches his arm, pulling him back upright and holding him in place until the blood flow to Bruce's legs starts again, but even then he feels horribly shaky.

"I'm a bit of a mess," he admits. Physically _and_ emotionally. "The only people who live here full time are me and Alfred, so it's just a matter of..."

Bruce goes to step inside, only to his _immense_ annoyance the door's locked. It makes perfect sense, considering it's after dark, but it's still an irritation. They're forced to circle around the house, heading for the front door, and Bruce sighs as he knocks on the front door of _his own house.  
_

"He's coming," Kal says, and Bruce has no idea how he knows because he can't hear a thing. He's proven right, though, when a moment later the front door opens to reveal a _very_ confused Alfred, already in his nightclothes.

"Master Bruce...?"

He looks like he doesn't even believe what he's seeing, which Bruce supposes is a fair reaction.

Realistically, he should take it slow. He should be careful with the old man who's raised him his whole life.

Instead, he pulls Alfred into a tight hug, burying his face against Alfred's shoulder right there on the doorstep.

"Oh, Master Bruce..." Alfred says quietly, his arms coming up to pull him into a hug. It feels good to have Alfred there, strong and firm and _dependable,_ and the ache in Bruce's chest has nothing to do with the discomfort of flying across the entire Atlantic ocean.

"You really must explain how you got here," Alfred says, maintaining the hug anyway. "When you called, the call was from _England!_ It hasn't been nearly enough time for you to have flown all the way over here."

Alfred goes stiff in his arms, and then finally withdraws. Bruce ever so reluctantly lets him go to find Alfred scrutinizing Kal and his attire where he stands only a few feet away.

"You should have told me we'd have guests," he says stiffly. "I'm hardly decent."

"I wouldn't know!" Kal says pleasantly, grinning down at Alfred for a moment before offering his hand. "I'm Kal."

Alfred shakes his hand, looking more confused by the second, and then looks at Bruce.

"We should go inside," Bruce says rather than explaining on the doorstep. "There's a lot I need to tell you about, and I'd rather not have Ms. Winn deciding to go for an evening walk and catching us out and about."


	18. Chapter 18

He waits until they're firmly inside before he lays it out for Alfred.

"Alfred, this is Kal," he starts, only to have Alfred raise an eyebrow at him because _technically_ Kal's already introduced himself. "His full name is Kal-El, and his ship was the source of the signal I went to Austria to find."

Alfred looks _deeply_ unimpressed.

"I was under the impression you were going to _Switzerland,"_ Alfred says dryly. "Unless I missed a rather major development in the war, those are still two very different countries."

Bruce winces. There's no easy way to say it, so his only option is to rip the bandage off in one go.

"Kal is an alien," he says, and then realizes a moment later that he wasn't entirely clear. "From another planet."

Alfred blinks at him, his disbelief written all over his face. Bruce sighs, gesturing _up_ to Kal, and Kal clues in immediately, lifting up off the floor.

The sight of a man flying in the entrance way is apparently enough for Alfred, who huffs and looks towards Bruce once more.

"You're going to have quite a bit of explaining to do."

He does. He has so _much_ to explain, only right then he's too tired to do so, so he tries to keep it as simple as possible.

"His ship was the source of the signal, the Germans found us, I was escorted to Munich where we ended up in a meeting with several high ranking Nazi officials... Kal realized he can fly under our sun so we fled to England. We met everyone important there, had tea with his Majesty and the royal family—" Alfred makes a choked noise at that. "—and then were advised to return here as soon as possible, since German spies were poking around."

"That was... too brief," Alfred sighs, gesturing for them to follow. "But I imagine you're both hungry and tired, so why don't you have some of today's stew and get some rest."

The stew's still hot, simmering on the stove, and Alfred is perfectly happy to feed the two of them. The feeling of hot food in his belly is exactly what Bruce needs right then, and he's dozing off before he's even finished eating.

"Why don't you head to your room," Alfred says gently, removing the dirty dishes. "I can ensure that Mr. El is tucked away in a guest room."

"I should do it," Bruce replies automatically. "He's my guest."

He feels like absolute _death_ as he does exactly as he said he would, showing Kal to the guest room and saying his goodnights. Kal's apparently used to the usual night routine from their travels, because he doesn't seem to have any particular thoughts or questions.

Or maybe he just realizes how exhausted Bruce is and knows better then to ask.

The feeling of falling into his own bed is a relief that feels better than anything he's ever experienced. After so long overseas and in sub-standard (or even inhuman, in several cases) lodgings, having a bed that both fits him and is comfortable is something _else._

His only regret is that he doesn't get to really enjoy it: he's asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

He wakes to something knocking at his door, and for a moment, the relief of waking up in his own bed leaves him only with dreary confusion. For a moment, he doesn't remember everything he's just been through. For a moment, he's at peace.

And then the knock comes again, and Bruce blearily rolls over in his bed to find Kal standing on the balcony, knocking at the balcony door.

Oh.

He drags himself out of bed, squinting out the window. There's no snow on the ground, but it's still cold as he opens the doors, ushering Kal into his bedroom. His nightclothes leave precious little to the imagination, and it's hard for him _not_ to think about it as he invites another man into his most private space.

"So who's Alfred?" are the first words out of Kal's mouth, catching Bruce off guard. It takes him a second to compose anything even _approaching_ an answer, because it takes that long to figure out what he's even really asking.

"Officially? He's my butler. He keeps the house orderly, organizes the other staff... I prefer to keep a minimal staff as much as possible. I prefer my privacy."

"Unofficially?"

"My father," Bruce answers without hesitation. "My parents passed away when I was young, and Alfred's raised me since then. I wouldn't be the man I am today without him, and I owe him..." He does hesitate there, struggling to find a word that could possibly be big enough to express how much he owes Alfred. "I owe him everything."

"He seems nice," Kal says, seeming distracted. His eyes are wandering around the room, taking it all in. "You sleep here?"

"This is my room, yes. My... personal quarters. Was the guest room all right?"

"More comfortable than the last few beds I've slept on."

His gaze seems to linger in a way that Bruce isn't quite sure how to handle. There are implications in that gaze, and he... well, he just woke up, he's in his nightclothes, and if Kal keeps looking at him they're going to have a _problem_ between them.

A very hard problem.

"You like me, don't you?"

Bruce's mouth is suddenly painfully dry.

"I... yes?"

Kal squints at him even more, as if he's not sure his question was really _understood._

"I mean in a sexual manner." His voice is so matter-of-fact it's _killing_ Bruce, and he wonders for a moment if he should have left the balcony door open for a hasty escape.

"I... find you attractive, yes."

It really is torture. Bruce hasn't had to deal with anything like this in _years,_ and never so awkwardly. Kal is... well, he's a great big unknown, and Bruce often finds it difficult to figure out just what he's thinking.

"Kryptonian culture doesn't have a space for sexual interactions between people," Kal explains. "Manual sexual reproduction was very difficult and irritating, and was considered to be a waste of time."

Sex was _a waste of time?_ The idea is making his head spin.

"As such," Kal continues, "I would be interested in experimenting with a sexual relationship with you."

"...You just made that sound like the least sexy thing possible," Bruce mumbles under his breath. He knows his face is red. He can _feel_ how hot it is.

"Would your answer be no, then?" Kal asks, without even a _hint_ of awareness for what he's asking.

"Sexual—" Bruce has to stop himself, taking a deep breath. He isn't used to talking about this sort of thing, and he's _not_ prepared for it. "Sexual interaction between humans is considered a... a very important relationship. It isn't something that should be... entered into simply out of scientific curiosity."

"But what if it's scientific curiosity _and_ that I like you?"

The ease with which Kal delivers a _confession of affection_ is enough to make Bruce want to lie down and never get back up. He simply _says it,_ as if it's not only no big deal but absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.

Bruce's heart pounds away in his chest.

"Or do you not find me appealing?" Kal asks, which is really the death blow to any resistance Bruce might have offered.

"No," he says abruptly. "I... I find you appealing. You are attractive physically, but you're also..." He has to pause, trying to figure out how to put what he means into words that would actually be coherent to another person. "I suppose I don't understand how you're so together." Kal's expression is perplexed, so Bruce has to roll with it. "You've faced down death and... who knows what else danger without batting an eye. Brave, I suppose."

"On Krypton we consider those sorts of things stupidity," Kal says with a thin smile. "I had no way of knowing what I was capable of physically. For all I know, I could have died very easily."

"And yet you didn't. And more importantly... neither did I. You could have very easily made it out with just you, but you went out of your way and put yourself at risk to make sure that I'd be all right too."

Kal is, without question, the reason that he's alive right then, and it seems like the perfect time to step forward, leaning up to kiss him. Kal doesn't pull back as Bruce closes the distance between them, standing almost perfectly still as Bruce presses their lips together.

It takes a moment before Kal returns the kiss, but when he's done there's no question in Bruce's mind that Kal has kissed people before. Probably a lot of people, if his skill level is anything to go by. His hand comes up to rest lightly at Bruce's side as he leans in with his entire body. Bruce finds himself leaning back instinctively, and Kal's hand slides across his back, offering him extra support to keep from falling.

Kal's lips are _alarmingly_ soft, and while Bruce doesn't have a ton of experience, it's very obvious to him that he's dealing with someone who has a lot more experience than he does.

Which is why the first words out of his mouth when the kiss breaks are less than flattering.

"I thought Kryptonians didn't do this sort of thing."

"Sexual contact does not encompass things like kissing," Kal says matter-of-factly. "As a species, we enjoy kissing a great deal."

Bruce _knows_ he's red, but there's nothing he can do to stop himself from blushing at every word Kal says.

"Well... you are very good at it," he finally admits. "But I think we should probably go eat, shouldn't we? You must be hungry." 

He's certainly hungry, but more importantly if they spend any more time in Bruce's bedroom he has a strong feeling things are going to move far, far too quickly for him.

"Of course," Kal says, releasing his hold as Bruce attempts to straighten up in the most dignified manner he can muster. "I think you mentioned a tour last night?"

A tour of the mansion is probably long overdue, but it's the last thing on Bruce's mind.


	19. Chapter 19

When they first emerge into the manor, Bruce is unsurprised to find that Alfred already has breakfast ready and waiting for them. What _is_ surprising is the fact that he's prepared the dining room, a situation that's quickly remedied.

"He'll be staying a while," Bruce clarifies. "He's a guest, not a... guest."

Despite being as cryptic as it's possible to be, Alfred apparently understands him perfectly, adjusting the place settings so that Kal eats where they normally eat, at the little table just off the kitchen. It's smaller and more homey, and Bruce has always preferred it over the more serious dining room. 

"You eat here?" Kal asks for clarification, looking to Bruce for insight.

"When it's just the two—or three—of us."

"And when there's more?"

"We eat in the dining room."

It really sets the tone for the morning, which is largely taken up by a tour of the manor and grounds. Bruce supposes it's a lot like being a museum curator, explaining the exhibits to the curious tour group who treat things with a detached (and often scientific) curiosity. Kal seems baffled by the size of the library, and it takes a bit of needling to get him to explain that books on Krypton were contained in small crystals, and that physical paper media had gone the way of the dodo long ago. He has similar thoughts about the presence of the staff when he spots a gardener out the window.

"Don't you have robots for that?" he asks, as if it's a completely normal question to ask.

"We're not at that stage yet," Bruce says. Apparently the way he lives is particularly jarring to Kal, who has only really had hotels and travel experiences to go by as far as the _human standard_ goes. Bruce takes pains to try and explain that he isn't even living at a standard level for a human, and that his level of wealth affords him a great deal that others don't have access to, but Kal doesn't seem particularly interested in the minutiae of daily human life.

They eat lunch together, and once they're done Alfred insists on stealing Kal away to get him in some proper clothes. As much as Bruce has grown used to his Kryptonian finery, Alfred's entirely correct when he points out that Kal will draw plenty of attention in it.

"You're right about the same size as Master Bruce," Alfred adds, looking Kal over. "I'm sure we have plenty that will fit."

Kal does fit his clothes in the end, and emerges from his room dressed in one of Bruce's suits. They make quite a pair standing side by side, and Bruce is again struck by just how _attractive_ Kal is. His skin is flawless, his jawline to die for. He almost wants to ask if it's a Kal thing or a Kryptonian thing, but doesn't know how to vocalize it.

With Kal dressed and able to go outside, a new question presents itself more or less immediately.

"Are we telling them?" Kal asks as he adjusts his suit. He doesn't look comfortable in it, but Bruce knows he'll adjust in time. "Your people, I mean?"

"Honestly, I'd rather you stay here," Bruce says with a sigh, "but I suppose we should probably inform the appropriate authorities. As discreetly as possible, of course." The fewer people who know about Kal's presence, the better. The less known his location is, the less likely it is the Germans will find out. As much as Bruce hopes that America will join the war effort, he doesn't want them to do so because he was killed by German spies.

"And contacting home?" Kal asks.

"That's easier to do. If you explain what you need, I should be able to get you most of it and you can get to work on contacting them."

Making contact with the Kryptonians is their first priority, because with Kal's ship still in German hands the possibility does exist that they'll find a way to contact Krypton first. A fleet of Kryptonian ships could change the course of the war without a single life being lost, and it's the greatest hope Kal represents.

But it's not as easy as simply going to a phone and dialing. Kal drafts out blueprints for the machine he's going to make, and while some parts are easy enough to produce, others will require either special machining or a special order. There's a lot of guesswork and a lot of effort needing to go into it, and absolutely none of it settles the _real problem._

The real problem, of course, is Kal's ship. Not that it's still in German hands (although Bruce knows they'll have to deal with it at some point or another), but the state of it. A crash is one thing, and perfectly understandable, but it isn't as if Kal's ship crashed and that was that. 

Kal's ship was buried, fused into stone. Kal's ship was part of a massive cave system, a natural part of the network.

Without Kal's word, Bruce would have believed that the ship had been there for centuries, if not millennia, and the sight of it fused into the stone has left him with a constant and ever-growing sense of foreboding.

He doesn't dare say it out loud, but the unspoken question constantly on the tip of his tongue is _do you know how long you were down there?_

Kal doesn't seem to hold the same reservations. He's excited for the chance to contact his home planet, and once Bruce sets him up in the workshop below the manor he gets to work immediately. He displays surprising strength, easily folding strips of metal that Bruce would have had to use specialized tools on, and Bruce does what he can by providing a number of devices he thinks might be helpful for Kal to take apart. A radio. A telephone. He even locates some old blueprints for a rudimentary duplexer from his archives, providing them for Kal to look over.

The feeling of unease doesn't go away.

Bruce does his due diligence in the meanwhile, weighing his options on who to contact. In the end, he phones a friend of the family, a senator whose wife takes a message and promises to pass it on. Then he calls Harvey, just to let him know he's back in town and that he'll probably be busy for the next while. He debates giving him some more warning, but there's too much risk of someone else finding out, and he can't risk it.

His work done, he goes to check on Kal, finding him deeply engrossed with his work. He opts to leave him, not wanting to disturb him while he's working.

There's plenty of things to do around the house. He has a stack of letters to reply to, and a list of things that need his attention from Alfred. It makes for a quiet, restful afternoon that seems jarringly at odds with his experiences over the last week. Every so often he catches his mind wandering, either to Kal or to the situation itself, and he's forced to drag his attention back to the task at hand, whether that be writing letters or ensuring that everyone who works at the manner by day is getting paid.

He fetches Kal for dinner and finds him up to his elbows in tiny metal parts, and the moment Kal sees him he starts rambling about the power requirements for the thing he's building. Bruce is a technically-minded man, but a great deal of what Kal is dealing with is either beyond him or beyond human understanding.

He gets the idea, though.

"You're going to need a lot of power to run this," he says, hoping for confirmation.

"Just to send. Transmitting is more passive and shouldn't need as much. But the initial broadcast... yes, it'll need plenty of power and a wide open space."

"Plenty of wide open spaces around here. There's some hills to the northwest that we could use, but getting power there... A better option would be to hope that my contacts in the military come through. If they do, we'll have all the power we could reasonably want, and we'll hopefully be able to pull this off without broadcasting your location to the world."

"Unlikely, I'm afraid," Kal says. "I need to be on site for the broadcast, and it will be... overwhelming."

Bruce doesn't like the sound of that in the slightest. 

"Overwhelming in what way?"

"Everything that operates on a radio frequency or anything near it is going to get the same message. It will... hmm, it'll be like placing a star next to a lamp. You won't be able to see the lamp because of the intensity of this broadcast."

Oh. Great.

"Would it be possible to include a... message to humanity, then? Because otherwise you're going to cause mass hysteria."

He's probably going to cause mass hysteria anyway, but there are things that they can do to minimize it at least.

"I don't see why we couldn't. I'll have to figure out what I want to say... or you could write it up."

"Together. We can... If you want to draft something up, I'll help you figure out the best way to say it."

Which is yet another thing they're going to be working on together, and the idea gives Bruce butterflies in his stomach.


	20. Chapter 20

They retire to the study after dinner to work on the speech, but there's not all that much to actually work on. The longer the speech, the more disruptive the broadcast will be, so they opt to keep it short: no more than two or three lines. Kal already has the Kryptonian part of the broadcast prepared, and he seems eager to move on to other things.

Bruce, on the other hand, is nervous. He doesn't know how to handle Kal's level of forwardness, and Kal is _very_ forward. They're finishing up writing down the speech (just to _have_ something written down) when Kal reaches out, resting a hand on Bruce's knee and turning to him.

Bruce's heart is beating in his chest so hard it's liable to burst.

"I was thinking I could come to your room, once we're done," Kal says, which is about as subtle as he seems capable of being. Bruce swallows hard, trying to get his nerves under control, and takes a second just to _think_ about it.

Does he want Kal? Well, sort of, yes. He's attracted to him both on a physical and a mental level, but it's hard to separate his concerns about the situation from his natural aversion to any sort of affection. Doing anything with anyone feels like some sort of trap, like someone's about to burst through the door and announce that they've _caught him_ and they're going to tell everyone.

His feelings are complicated and _beyond_ confusing, and he isn't sure he has the time to figure out what he wants with such certainty that he'll actually _know._

He has to go with his gut.

"All right," he says. His gut wants Kal. His gut doesn't want to think about all the implications and risks. His gut wants to know what Kal feels like pressed against him. "When we're done."

Being done doesn't take more than a few minutes, and then Kal is hovering at his side (thankfully not literally) as they head up to the bedrooms. Kal completely ignores the guest room, following Bruce into his own quarters, and the moment the door is closed he reaches up, pulling at the knot in his tie.

Bruce thinks he's undressing, but after a second realizes that he's not undressing: he's just doing what almost everyone does when they're comfortable and letting himself breathe a bit more freely.

It does give Bruce a moment to ask the question that's been on his mind for a long, long time.

"I know this is putting me at serious risk of... well, seeing something I don't want to, but is your true form something you can actually take, or are you stuck like this...?"

It seems like such an obvious thing to Bruce, but Kal seems mystified.

"My... true form?"

Bruce isn't sure if he's playing dumb or is actually oblivious, but he prefers to assume ignorance over malice whenever possible.

"I know you must... well, look like something else, usually. You can't just _normally_ look identical to a human."

The odds of that are astronomical, unless there were some previously unknown connection between their two planets... well, Kryptonians _have_ to look different.

"No. This is how I always look." Kal looks down at himself, as if suddenly uncertain. "I mean, I assumed I was sent here because you were a technologically advanced species I wouldn't... cause alarm to. My parents handled planet selection, so I didn't have any real involvement in choosing Earth."

Bruce feels like his head is spinning at that realization. That Kal has _always_ looked completely human. He's been assuming that there was something else going on the whole time, and now, looking at him...

That means he's just _naturally_ attractive.

Bruce's cheeks are red as Kal turns to face him properly, leaning in to look him over with obvious scrutiny.

"I hadn't given it much thought," he confesses. "But you're correct. Physically, you seem identical to Kryptonians. You even seem to have identical physical capabilities to a Kryptonian on our own planet. That said, while I think that's worth further study, it isn't why I wanted you here."

Kal leans down, pulling Bruce into another kiss.

It's just as soft as the first time, gentle and considerate, and as distracted as he is Bruce can still taste the hint of champagne on Kal's tongue as he runs it across Bruce's lips.

Even if Kal supposedly doesn't have any experience with sex, he clearly has experience with _this,_ expertly using his mouth and hands to keep Bruce in the moment. His hands rest on Bruce's sides as he kisses him, keeping him upright with only the softest of touches.

Bruce has to break the kiss after a minute, gasping for breath. He feels overwhelmed and _extremely_ turned on, his erection uncomfortable in his pants.

"I should... _we_ should undress," he says. "These clothes aren't going to be comfortable to... ah, _do_ anything in."

"I'm not sure I can," Kal laughs. "I don't know if he told you, but Alfred had to help me figure out how you do... this..." He gestures to the tie, and Bruce reaches up. It's already loosened, but he carefully removes it anyway, pulling it out and looking up at Kal's face.

He wants him. He wants Kal not just then, but for a long time to come. He wants what they're doing to _mean_ something, and as much as he's afraid that it doesn't—that Kal is only interested in it as an academic curiosity, an unexplored thing he's yet to experience—he doesn't care.

Bruce wants it to be more than a one time thing, wants it to have _meaning,_ but he'll accept it even if it doesn't.

Bruce is vastly more familiar with the way human clothes work, and he has a much easier time taking them off then Kal does. Kal's chest doesn't disappoint in the slightest, impressively muscular for someone who was supposed to be spending all his time pursuing scientific study. Bruce is more or less immediately torn, unsure of how fast he wants to go, and in the end he opts to go with his gut, letting his fingers trail across Kal's chest.

"I should confess I'm new at this," Kal says, even though it's something Bruce already knew. "I've never done anything beyond kissing, which was common enough on Krypton."

"Hard to believe," Bruce mutters under his breath. Just because society _says_ people shouldn't be having sex doesn't mean a thing.

"And you?"

Bruce stills, trying to figure out how he wants to answer. It's not as easy as just saying yes or no. It's... nuanced.

"I have... some experience," he admits. "When I was young, a friend and I... discovered our interest in men together. But I haven't done anything since then, and we never went too far."

"So you _have_ done things!" Kal says. There's no judgement, only excitement, and he leans in to study Bruce's face. "You should show me the things you've done."

Bruce knows he's blushing. He can feel the heat of his face, and he's not sure how to make it stop as he clears his throat.

"Like I said, we didn't go far. Mostly it was... well..." He struggles for a moment to figure out how to say what he wants without it sounding crude, but the fact is that it _is_ crude, and he's forced to say the first thing that popped into his mind. "Mostly just jacking each other off. Sometimes together, sometimes... not."

"Show me."

Kal's nothing if not earnest. There's not even the slightest hint of anything malicious in it, so Bruce takes a deep breath and lets his hand wander down to the edge of Kal's pants. He tries not to let his hands shake as he undoes his pants, slipping his hand in, and...

And nothing.

Bruce gropes for Kal's dick and finds _absolutely nothing._

It's like taking a breath underwater and breathing air: completely nonsensical and defying any sort of explanation. He doesn't even say anything, just reaches up and hikes Kal's pants down to where he _should_ be able to see something, and just... nothing.

"Kal." His voice is cracking. "Do you not have a penis?"

"Oh!" Kal's response seems genuinely embarrassed, which only makes things _more_ confusing. "Should I have brought it out already? I wasn't sure."

And then, like magic, Kal's penis arrives on the scene.

Of course when Bruce has had a bit of time to think about it, it makes enough sense: Kal's otherwise (mostly) human penis is hidden behind a sheath a bit lower down than the average dick. But at that moment Bruce can't see the whole area, so it's as if Kal's penis just slips out of his pants like it was hiding somewhere down his pant leg, and Bruce makes a choked noise of pure confusion at the sight of it.

Kal looks down at his own dick, obviously alarmed.

"Is it not the same?" he asks. "I assumed since everything else was..."

"No, I— just give me a moment." He desperately needs that moment to pull himself together, and the look of genuine horror on Kal's face would be almost comical if Bruce weren't so overwhelmed already.

He takes a solid minute to take some nice deep breaths, mentally sort out what he's dealing with (while trying not to look directly at Kal's penis, which is a feat in itself) and then tries to address the situation as best he can.

"Your genitalia are... internal most of the time?"

Kal's done a good job of being open and accepting, but for the first time he gives Bruce a look that's absolutely baffled.

"Are yours... not? Why would you have _external_ genitalia?"

"To—" Bruce has to stop himself, trying to regain his composure. Should he tell Kal to put it back inside until they've talked it out? The mood isn't quite ruined, but it's... unusual. "Human... sperm isn't viable at body temperature, so we have... external genitalia to keep the temperature low enough."

"You mean your penis is out _right now?_ And..." Kal seems awed by the idea. "And _all the time?_ What if someone kicks there?"

"Then we get hurt."

"That's so _inefficient!"_ Kal protests. "Can I see?"

Somehow, being naked while flaccid feels less embarrassing than it would be otherwise, and Bruce shifts, reaching down to undo and pull down his pants. He's still fully dressed, and increasingly aware of the fact that Kal _isn't,_ his penis still just hanging out there, hard as a rock.

Kal's expression is... mixed. Bruce is having a hard time moving past the impression that Kal looks disappointed, which is _not_ the sort of reaction you want when first taking your pants off. He's sure Kal isn't, but...

"Is it always so... small?" Kal asks carefully, and Bruce chokes.

"No!" he blurts. "It's not— It's flaccid. It gets bigger." Oh _god._ That means it _was_ disappointment he was seeing.

"Oh, good." Kal lets out a genuine sigh of relief. "The average Kryptonian penis is significantly larger, so I wasn't sure if we had a mismatch."

A mismatch because _his penis was too big._

Bruce ponders if dying would _really_ be so bad. Right then it seems vastly preferable to enduring the level of embarrassment he's being subjected to.

"No," he says, trying to explain before Kal says anything that makes it worse. "Humans have... external genitalia. Well, male humans do. Our penises and testicles are always outside our bodies, and when the time comes to... to have sex, they become hard. And bigger." Definitely bigger.

Kal is still staring at his dick, apparently _pondering,_ and Bruce really wishes he'd stop.

"Fascinating. Kryptonian genitalia is internal the vast majority of the time, so breeding has always been an issue for us. Our penises have to be fully out for several hours before we can reproduce, which is quite a problem in our present society. Supposedly in the old days any attempt to reproduce involved being sequestered for several days, but it's not as if that's something that works with any reasonably modern society. People have obligations now."

When he thinks about it that way, Bruce all of a sudden understands why Kryptonians might not have really _had_ sex. For them, it's the last remains of a particularly irritating physical requirement, one they're eager to move past. While Bruce supposes they might have ended up at a society that had completely divorced sex-for-pleasure and sex-for-reproduction, it's clear to him they threw the baby out with the bathwater instead.

"You can just... make it come out whenever you want?"

"Yes. You can't?"

"No, it sort of... does what it wants," Bruce admits, the blush creeping back into his cheeks. "When I get turned on, it... does its own thing."

Kal reaches forward without preamble, lightly grabbing Bruce's cock.

He was soft before, but it's _extremely_ hard to remain flaccid with Kal's fingers running across his dick. Kal seems pleased at the reaction, and wraps his fingers around Bruce's shaft, giving him a gentle tug.

Bruce isn't happy with the whine he makes. It's not dignified in the slightest, but the feeling of someone's—of _Kal's_ —hands on him is enough to drive him crazy. He does what he can to return the favor, reaching out to take Kal into his hand, and is relieved when the feeling is familiar enough. A bit damp—not properly oiled or anything, but not dry either.

It's a cock either way, and Bruce knows how to handle it.

He treats Kal's the way he would his own, swiping his thumb across the head and following it up with a few firm strokes to get a good feeling for it. It's normal enough in size and shape, although his balls hang a lot less than any Bruce has seen before. More importantly, Kal reacts the way Bruce is hoping: his face scrunches, his mouth dropping open into a perfect little _o._ He's only half paying attention to what he's doing with his own hands, but Bruce doesn't mind the infrequent fumbling the other man does manage.

"Bruce," Kal gasps, apparently deeply caught up in what's happening. _"Bruce...!"_

It doesn't take long for Kal. He's overly sensitive and desperate for any added friction, and Bruce is pretty sure he knows Kal is cumming before the man himself does. He seems to cum a _lot,_ which Bruce credits to how long it's been since he's had an orgasm, but right then Bruce is having a hard time focusing on it. The whine Kal lets out when he cums is enough to give Bruce a good push towards his own orgasm, and the way Kal leans against him, resting his forehead against Bruce's shoulder as he pants desperately nearly finishes him off.

Bruce doesn't even need to prompt him. Still slumped over, Kal focuses his attention on Bruce, stroking him towards his own orgasm. It's not the most amazing orgasm he's ever had, slightly muted by Bruce's constant confusion over more or less _everything_ that's happening, but hearing Kal still panting makes it that much easier.

They end up hunched over, pressed against each other as they ride out the tail ends of their orgasms together.

"...We should do that again!" Kal says, _long_ before Bruce is even finished recovering.

"We can't," Bruce says with a laugh. "Or at least _I_ can't. Humans have... well, we have a refractory period. We need to recover."

"Oh." And of course when Bruce looks, Kal's expression has sunk because he can't just _immediately_ mess around again. "Maybe later?"

"Maybe later," Bruce says, fighting back another laugh. "Maybe tomorrow, really. We should go to bed."

"Do humans share beds?"

"With... loved ones, yes," he answers, picking his words carefully. "Married couples share beds most of the time."

"Could _we_ share a bed?"

Oh. Bruce's heart beats away in his chest, and he nods before he allows himself to second-guess it.

"Sure. You should go get changed, but the bed's big enough for both of us."

The feeling of getting to spend the night with Kal at his side is a new experience for Bruce. His heart keeps pounding away, and he knows he isn't going to get much sleep, constantly distracted by Kal's presence at his side. Kal himself is asleep more or less instantly, curled against Bruce's side like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Bruce wants it to be.


	21. Chapter 21

Kal, it turns out, is a clinger. Bruce wakes earlier than usual with Kal latched onto his side, and rather than being bothered by the earlier wake-up he finds himself relieved.

He's still there. Kal is still at his side. He hasn't left, or snuck off, or anything else like that.

And he's _real._ So much of what's happened over the last week feels like the world's most awful dream, but this part just feels _good._

Being with Kal is the best kind of dream, only it's reality.

He stays in bed far longer than he usually would, getting out of bed only when Alfred comes to knock and wake him up. Alfred seems fully aware of what's happening, since he doesn't enter and pull the shades open as he normally would, and for that Bruce is _immensely_ thankful.

"I like breakfast here much better," Kal says cheerfully as Alfred serves them. "It's nicer."

"I should hope so. I do most of the cooking myself, and if Master Bruce is having guests over there's a young man down in the city who comes up to cook for us."

"A professional chef," Bruce clarifies. "We pay him." He can't help but worry that Kal's going to get the wrong impression somewhere along the line, and he's doing everything he can to avoid it... or at the very least put it off. "We have a small staff that helps out around the manor, but Alfred's the only one who is full-time."

"I still think robots are more convenient," Kal says, as if he fully expects Bruce to try and argue. He isn't going to.

"Robots are more convenient, but we don't have robots. They're... purely fictional to us. Hypothetical."

"Like aliens," Alfred says dryly. "I must also regret to inform you that you've received absolutely no response from anyone of any importance."

"Not surprising," Bruce sighs. He's spent so long making himself the loudest person in the room when it came to whether or not America should take up arms to defend the common good that there's no doubt in his mind that everyone is assuming his message is more of the same. "I'll have to take more... direct measures."

"What about making contact with my people?" Kal asks. "I made good progress on it, but I'm going to need some more pieces."

"If you can... I don't know how well the translator is going to work when translating things that we have no concepts for, but if you can _describe_ them I'll do everything in my power to get them for you."

"I'll make a list for you. I know I shouldn't rush you, but..."

"But you're eager to make contact," Bruce finishes for him. His mouth is dry. He knows he should bring up the very real possibility that Kal might not like what he hears, but he can't make himself do it.

Maybe he's wrong. Maybe everything is normal and according to plan and not going to end in tears.

Maybe, but he doubts it.

The list is filled with technical notes, but some items are so specialized that Bruce needs to consult with an expert. He makes a trip down to the city to see an old acquaintance of his, earning himself a great deal of squinting in the process. Only half of the list is available at all, but the rest is out of the question.

"Some of these I would have to order from Europe," he says, "and you know how things are."

Bruce thanks the man and pays him handsomely for his time anyway.

When he returns home, Alfred meets him at the door. Kal isn't with him, and Alfred quickly explains that he's down in the workshop.

"He was quite eager to see you," he explains, "but I would strongly recommend ensuring that he's aware of the importance of public perception. If he were to act in public the way he's acting at home..."

"I'll talk to him." Bruce can't help but cringe at the idea of Alfred knowing, but realistically the old man was always going to find out somehow. Alfred knows everything that's happening in the house, and trying to keep it from him is a fool's errand. "Do you think we could pass off any... indiscretions as..." He pauses, trying to find a term that isn't going to come across as insulting. "As an alien peculiarity?"

"That would depend. Better not to risk it." Alfred makes a little shooing motion towards the stairs.

Kal is hard at work, hunched over the workbench as Bruce comes down the stairs. He's wary of interrupting him, but it turns out not to be an issue, because Kal speaks first.

"I'll have to ask Alfred for more details as to what part of my behavior would be considered unacceptable," Kal says, not looking up from his work. It takes Bruce longer than it should for him to wrap his head around the fact that Kal is referring to the quiet conversation Bruce had with Alfred a few minutes before, and even longer is spent trying to estimate the the distance.

"That... did Kryptonians—"

"No. It would appear that my abilities have significantly expanded beyond flight. I can hear your heartbeat right now. I could hear your conversation earlier with Alfred. I have... highly enhanced physical attributes."

Bruce has no idea what _that_ means, but apparently his confusion is self-evident, because Kal lifts up a small metal pipe and bends it like it's paper in front of him.

Oh. Apparently _highly enhanced physical attributes_ means super strength and god only knows what else.

"I should have injured myself earlier. I slipped, but the blade I was using did nothing to me. When I tested further, it appears my skin's durability is also vastly increased."

Kal being impervious to minor dangers should be a good thing, but the way in which he found out is anything but.

"You shouldn't be doing that sort of thing alone," Bruce says immediately, closing the distance between them. "You have no idea how your body is reacting to being on Earth, and while most of what we've found out is good, that doesn't mean there aren't bad things."

For all he knows, Kal is allergic to some mundane Earthly substance. Maybe he's vulnerable to lead or heat or who knows what else. Bruce doesn't want to find out—or more accurately, he does so he can make sure Kal is never exposed to it. "You need to be careful, Kal."

"I need to make contact," Kal replies. He seems agitated, fidgeting where he sits. He's halfheartedly still working away, but he's distracted at best. "Bruce, someone at home knows what this is. Someone could... could explain what I'm going through. They'd be able to walk me through appropriate testing procedures, would be able to provide insight on whatever changes my body is going through..."

He's upset, Bruce realizes. Flying was one thing. Flying was exciting, and just the thing they needed. If it had just been flying, Kal would probably be fine, but it _isn't._ It's flying and being able to hear clear across the house. It's being able to bend metal almost by _accident,_ and being immune to injury. Even worse, all of it is coming at Kal faster and faster now that he has time to be in the sun.

Which is obviously why he isn't in the sun. It's impossible for Bruce to miss that Kal has sequestered himself below the manor without an ounce of natural sunlight.

He revises his thoughts. Kal isn't upset; he's scared.

He pulls over one of the extra chairs to take a seat beside Kal at the workbench. He waits for Kal to pause his work, and only then does he reach up, taking Kal's hand into his own.

"...I could hurt you," Kal says, his voice so much quieter than usual. "Without even meaning to..."

"You won't." Bruce is confident in that. The idea of Kal hurting someone simply doesn't fit. "You're a protector. Whatever you do, I know you'll use that strength to help people, not to hurt them."

Maybe it's cliche, but it feels right to say. Kal's been thrown into an extremely distressing situation and he's rolled with it, doing the best he can under the circumstances. He's protected Bruce from the Nazis. He's flown him across the _whole damn ocean_ just to get Bruce home.

It feels right to lean in, kissing him as softly as Bruce can manage. Kal melts into the kiss, his hand coming up to rest against Bruce's side, and Bruce melts into the touch in turn.

When the kiss finally breaks, Bruce knows there's more to say.

"I know this is stressful. And this... this must be awful for you. But no matter what happens, you're still the same person, and I'll still be here for you, no matter what."

He should tell him. He should open his mouth and say the words _I think you've been here longer than you think._ But he can't. He can't risk being wrong. He can't risk crushing Kal only to find out that his theory (because no matter what, it's only a theory—he has no actual evidence either way) is wrong.

So he says nothing, pulling Kal into a hug instead. Right then, it feels like all he can really do.


	22. Chapter 22

All Bruce really wants is to stay at home with Kal. There's so much that he wants to show him and so much to talk about, but the Earth continues to spin whether they want it to or not.

Things need to get done.

"I have a family member who might be able to help us," Bruce explains to Kal over dinner. "I was thinking that once we're done eating, we could drive over and visit him."

"So late?" Alfred asks with a frown.

"We have a limited amount of time. The longer we wait, the higher the chance that something terrible will happen, and most likely the Nazis are already working on unearthing Kal's ship."

"It'll take them a while," Kal chimes in, "but you're right... it would be better if they didn't have any access to Kryptonian technology at all."

"I don't suppose it's locked to only be usable by Kryptonians...?" Bruce isn't surprised when Kal shakes his head, but he doesn't regret asking, either.

"That was how you woke me up. Space travel is unsafe due to radiation, so we use a modified crystalline structure similar to ice to protect and encase the traveler. It effectively freezes their bodily functions until the ship wakes them up. The emergency fail-safe is that if anyone accesses the crystal externally, it'll activate the wake sequence."

"Is that what I was doing?" Bruce asks. Truth be told, he finds it fascinating. "Accessing the crystal externally?"

"If you'd kept tapping at it, you should have gotten an actual interface. I assume you only touched it once?"

"That was all the time I had. It reacted immediately."

He shovels what remains on his plate around, distracted and trying not too think too hard about it. Alfred seems to pick up on his agitation, because he carefully changes the subject.

"You were going out after dinner...?"

"Oh, right," Bruce says, dragging his attention back to the matter at hand. "I feel like if we call he'll say he's busy, so I think arriving unannounced is better."

"Easier to ask forgiveness than permission," Alfred says with a smile. "I'll bring the car around."

The trip takes longer than Bruce had estimated. They hit traffic, which accounts for part of it, but a larger factor is that Bruce is too busy thinking about things and misses their turn.

The standard is that family comes to visit the manor, but it isn't the first time he's been at the base. He knows the procedures as he rolls up, showing his ID to the guard at the gate and getting straight to the point.

"I'm here to speak with Colonel Kane," he says.

"Is he expecting you?" The soldiers clearly recognize Bruce, because the ones not taking his ID are quietly discussing him just out of earshot, and the pointed looks are particularly hard for Bruce to miss.

"I'm afraid not. I only just got back in the country quite unexpectedly, but I needed to talk with him. He's my uncle, and this seemed like the fastest way."

They're made to wait while things go through the chain of command, a slow and boring process as the minutes pass on. They're waiting in the car, parked in a parking spot at the corner of the base, when Kal leans over, his voice dropping low.

"Do you trust him?"

"Huh?" The question comes out of nowhere, and he's not entirely sure who Kal's asking about. "Who?"

"The man we're going to meet. Your uncle."

Ah. It's a fair enough question, and considering the kind of military men from Earth that Kal's dealt with, a perfectly valid concern.

"I do. I'm not sure I would... tell him about us or anything like that, but he wants what's best for everyone. He's always been a good man."

"Does he know you went after the signal?"

"He doesn't. I didn't tell him because if I told him, he'd have had to do something about it. I spared him the choice."

Bruce isn't entirely sure Kal actually follows, but he goes silent, turning his head. Bruce turns his as well, and spots one of the soldiers approaching the car, rapping at the window with his knuckles. Kal heard him long before Bruce could have possibly done so, and Bruce adds to a mental tally at the realization.

"Colonel Kane will see you. If you'll just follow us up this way..."

They end up guided up the road, escorted the whole way by soldiers. Jacob has a house to himself, even if it isn't anything fancy, and he's waiting out on the little deck, squinting at them as they pull up and park in front of it.

"You were supposed to call," he says the moment Bruce opens the door. "Not just stop by."

"It was a unique situation," Bruce calls, gesturing for Kal to get out. Kal's not in his Kryptonian clothes, meaning he looks just like any other human, just the way Bruce wants him to. "Could we talk in your office?"

Jacob huffs but gestures for them to enter, squinting at Kal who looks perfectly pleasant. He's acting the same way he was in Munich: oblivious and simply happy to be there, and it's obvious to Bruce that it's a safety measure for him, and one with a proven track record.

Jacob's barely shut the door when he turns towards them, arms folding over his chest. He's clearly not happy, but Bruce knows he can change that.

"You know as well as I do there's nothing I can do, Bruce," he says, shaking his head. "We've talked about this. Bringing someone else around to convince me isn't going to matter, because I _know_ we should be doing something. I agree with you, really, I do. But that's where it ends."

"I can change your mind."

"Bruce, please, I've been _very_ busy. We've had a lot going on, Europe is an absolute nightmare, there's rumors—"

"Rumors of the German high command being in a tizzy, running all over Germany on a whim? Of German spies suddenly being on high alert? Of extensive troop movements in Austria?"

Jacob's squinting so hard at him his eyes are nearly closed, and it takes a lot of self control to not give him a smug smile.

"I'm very aware of what's been happening in Austria. At this point, please don't take it as arrogance when I say I probably know more than you. I only just got back from there, and I've been _trying_ to loop everyone here in on what's happening, but no one's returning my calls."

"Because you've been banging on everyone's door for the last few months, making a nuisance of yourself." Jacob reaches up, dragging his hand down his face, and then moves over to lean against his desk. "All right. I'm ready—what did you figure out?"

Bruce isn't even sure where to start, and in the end decides that _the beginning_ is probably the best place. There's no point skipping to the end, after all.

"Are you aware of the signal being broadcast out of Austria until recently?"

"Hard to miss it," Jacob says, waving his hand. "All the scientists are up in arms over it. The broadcast was interrupting a lot of their instruments, and they wanted it off. About a week ago, it turned off, just like that." He snaps his fingers for emphasis. "So it's out of my hands."

"To make things very, very brief, a friend asked me to go to Switzerland and take some readings, since America is technically still neutral, and a rich American can go where the Allies can't. When I realized the signal was broadcasting from just over the border, I slipped across to locate it."

Jacob scowls at him, but doesn't interrupt.

"I located the source of the signal, which was the same point it stopped transmitting. The source itself was an alien spacecraft, which had crashed and was resting in a cave system—"

Jacob cracks up. He seems to find the whole thing hysterical, which Bruce supposes is a perfectly reasonable response to being told that Bruce found a spaceship. He waits for the worst of the laughter to subside before he clears his throat and continues.

"For the record, I'm being completely serious. I was captured by Nazis, along with the occupant of the craft, and was taken all the way to Munich. I ended up in a room with several high ranking Nazi officials and convinced them I was an oblivious has-been."

"Oh!" Kal says suddenly, drawing Jacob's attention again. "Is this the uncle? The cousin and her family..."

"That's him. The one I was talking about was his daughter, Kate."

"Sorry, I'm stuck on the fact that you're claiming you went to Switzerland and found.. an alien craft? And an _actual alien?"_ Jacob says, disbelief coloring his features. "I'm not going to patronize you by asking if you've hit your head, Bruce, but please tell me you've got some kind of evidence or something."

Bruce gestures to Kal, who raises his hand to wave. Jacob looks at Kal like he's nuts, and then turns back to Bruce, giving him the same look.

"Him? He sure looks human to—"

Jacob stops talking as Kal lifts off the ground, floating a few inches off the floor. He gawks blatantly, taking it in, and then in true Kane fashion proceeds to circle Kal at a distance, searching for some kind of explanation for what he's seeing. When he doesn't find one, he backs up a bit, cocking his head as he tries to find _something._

"There's nothing to find," Bruce says. "He's actually flying."

"My name is Kal-El," Kal says with a smile. "My home planet is Krypton, and I was sent as a diplomat to the people of Earth, although I understand I've come at an unfortunate time."

Jacob makes a small wheezy noise.

"And... who have you told about this?"

"The Nazis know about him because they captured us. Kal gets his ability to speak our language from me, so we were kept together, and were able to engineer a plan to escape."

"Bruce defended me when we were first captured. When I had a choice between someone who pointed a weapon at me, or someone who stood between me and that weapon, I knew which one to choose."

"Well, I have to say, Bruce, when you showed up I was pretty angry you didn't call, but in this case..." He rubs at his forehead a bit, taking a second to recover. "What do you need? I assume you stopped by because you have some kind of plan."

"We have two goals," Bruce explains as Kal settles back down onto the floor. "One, Kal is trying to make contact with his people, who may be able to help. He's been building a transmitter that's a... a version of the one he had on his ship, but it's going to need a massive amount of power."

"I can do that," Jacob says immediately. "But what else can he do?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow, and Jacob elaborates.

"I assume he's not a completely ordinary human who can also fly. I assume there's more to it."

"I'm still working out what I can do here," Kal says. "But at a minimum, I'm extremely strong and have good hearing."

"Perfect. How time-sensitive is this?"

Bruce and Kal exchange a look, and Kal shrugs.

"Sooner is better," Bruce interprets, "but a few days won't kill us. I understand it's not going to be easy."

"It isn't, but I can make do. I have a bunch of bigwigs coming to inspect the base and talk shop in two days. I'm going to pull rank and get everything set up so we can pull excess power from the grid, but you've got to do your part. Dress him up like an actual alien, for one. Have him fly in as you arrive. Tell me what he can lift, and I'll get something big and impressive. You're going to want to wow them to get them to want to work with you."

Jacob is rolling with the punches, and Bruce appreciates that. The alternative—having no one on their side—would have made things so much worse.

"The other thing is that the Germans are digging up Kal's ship... probably as we speak. What they find in it could be used against us. It could change the course of the war in a... a very unpleasant way."

"Oh, start with the easy stuff and then hit me with the whammy," Jacob says, his enthusiasm dying almost immediately. "You're asking us to invade."

"I don't know what I'm asking, Uncle Jacob—"

"Oh, _now_ he brings out the uncle. Bruce, you said the ship's in Austria, and that's that. We can't invade Austria. It just can't happen."

"Maybe France—"

"France is disorganized. There's no chance they're going to march over the border into Austria, Bruce."

He should have known, realistically. He should have expected this would happen. But it hurts hearing it anyway.

"Just... give me something," Bruce says. "We can't let them get their hands on that kind of technology."

"We shouldn't, but I'm not seeing another option here."

Neither is Bruce, and that's the problem. Both options are impossible.

"I have some parts I'm missing," Kal says. "You might have access to them?"

Jacob's right back to business, but Bruce isn't as quick to recover. He feels unfocused as Kal rattles off a list of parts, and Jacob grabs a notebook to write it all down. So late at night, they're limited in what they can do, but Jacob's more than willing to work with them.

"I'll get the parts for you and have them ready when you show up two days from now," Jacob says, looking over the notebook. "You can finish your work here, which should impress them even more."

"The work's already almost finished," Kal says. "Once I have those parts, it shouldn't take more than an hour."

"Bruce?" Jacob says, snapping Bruce out of his distracted state. "Will that work for you?"

"It sounds just fine."

"Good, then keep this quiet. The last thing we want is anyone catching wind of what we have going on, all right?"

Kal and Jacob seem to get along fairly well, and they say their goodbyes at the door before being escorted off base. Once they're outside, Jacob gives no indication of what's transpired, and as far as anyone else can tell, it's business as usual.

But for Bruce and Kal, it's anything but. Jacob is a major ally, and depending on how things go in two days, everything could change for better or for worse.


	23. Chapter 23

Kal's excitement is impossible to miss as they make the trip back to Gotham. He chatters away about every little thing: about how well it went, about how nice Jacob was, about wanting to test his strength. It lasts almost ten minutes before he suddenly goes quiet, and when Bruce glances over he finds Kal staring at him, his expression solemn.

"You're upset."

Not exactly a hard conclusion to come to; Bruce hasn't said a word since they got into the car.

"I... suppose I am," he says. "I knew they weren't going to be able to help, but hearing it still feels... frustrating."

"But we'll be able to contact my people." 

Bruce's heart sinks. He doesn't have it in him to break it to Kal directly, but he can at least allude to the issue.

"That isn't a guarantee of anything, unfortunately. Kal..." He has to say it. Or at least _imply_ it. He can't just leave him in the dark. "Sending that message doesn't mean your people will come."

Kal, unfortunately, takes it the exact wrong way.

"Bruce, I know your people don't... ah, value science as highly as we would like, but on Krypton being a scientist is considered a profession held in high esteem. I was chosen for this in part because of my family's position. There's absolutely no chance they'd consider this unimportant; it's a significant scientific mission for us."

Bruce tries. He really does. But Kal's so _happy,_ so relieved to get the parts and power they need. Bruce doesn't have it in him to make him face the truth. Maybe later, when he's less excited.

So he takes a different tack.

"Even if that's true, it's not the silver bullet you think it is."

Kal's face immediately scrunches up in confusion.

"Silver bullet...?"

"It's not an instant fix. It's not as simple as them flying in and declaring things over. You'll be seen as... as an invasion. Sure, you could _force_ countries to stop attacking each other and hurting their people, but then you'd be the enemy."

Kal doesn't hesitate. Not even for a moment.

"If that was what it took to stop people from being hurt, then I think that would be worth it."

Bruce likes to keep both hands on the wheel while driving, but right then he thinks it's worth it to reach out, taking Kal's hand in his own and giving it a small squeeze. He wants to hold him right then, and only the fact that they're on the road stops him from doing so.

"I know you would. I don't doubt that even for a moment. You'd set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm, Kal, but I don't want that. I don't want our first contact as a species to be..." He hesitates, just for a moment, then shakes his head. "I don't want it to come to that. I think what matters most right now is figuring out how to stop the Germans. If they excavate your ship, there's no telling what technology they might find."

"I didn't have weapons on the ship." Kal sounds defensive, and Bruce doesn't blame him.

"That doesn't mean they couldn't make one. The technology you have access to is miles above anything we have on Earth. You have... for God's sake, Kal, you have _universal translators._ That alone could change the course of the war."

Kal's no longer defensive, but he seems lost in thought. He doesn't reply right away, thinking things through as they make the rest of the drive home. It's almost thirty minutes before he speaks again, clearing his throat before he does so.

"The ship has a self-destruct."

It's the answer to Bruce's prayers.

"Remote?"

"No. I'd have to set it off in person. It wouldn't be dangerous—it's very loud and impossible to ignore, so there'd be plenty of time for anyone inside to evacuate—but I'd have to be there."

Bruce's uncertainty rears its head, and he can't avoid asking.

"Even if the ship is in pieces?"

Kal frowns, but at the very least he doesn't have to think about it.

"Even then. Kryptonian ships are... It's difficult to explain, since I don't think you have an equivalent concept. They're all... tied together. Every piece is part of a greater whole, even if they aren't touching. Even if they aren't physically connected, it's..." He pauses. "Do you have a concept of iea?"

The word comes out wrong. When Kal speaks, it's in perfect English with a strange, unplaceable accent, but on that one word the accent seems dialed up to eleven.

"No," Bruce says. "I heard it as... _iea."_ He tries to repeat the word back, but he's sure it comes out wrong anyway.

"Wow," Kal says, blinking at him. "That was... hm. So you don't. I think it's a bit complicated of an explanation for the ride home, but maybe sometime later."

"I'm interested to hear about this... _iea,_ but it is pretty late, and I should focus on driving."

"I don't think it really matters," Kal says. "The important part is that we have the option. If things don't go well, we could go back to the ship and detonate it."

There are a lot more complications, and it's not going to be as easy as _just going back,_ but it's a start. It's an option, and that's enough to shift Bruce's mood. He feels himself relax as he eases back into his seat, turning his attention to the road as they make the rest of the drive home.

As relieved as he is, there's still the constant lingering doubt, the pea beneath his bed keeping him from sleeping well.

Because if Kal _does_ blow up his ship, there's no going back—and if Bruce is right and he's been there for hundreds of years, there might not be a rescue coming for him at all.


	24. Chapter 24

Alfred's already in bed when they return, although there's some food left out for them, already ready to eat. Truth be told, Bruce is relieved: Alfred already being asleep means he doesn't see where Kal goes.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn't go to the guest room. Instead, he simply follows Bruce back to his bedroom without even asking, the assumption clear. Bruce wonders if he should correct him, just to avoid it being an issue in the future, but can't quite bring himself to do so.

Mostly because he's hoping for more of the same. It's late, and he's tired, but that doesn't stop his cock from twitching in his pants, eager for more attention than it's gotten in a long while. 

They're barely through the door when Kal turns, reaching out to catch Bruce's wrist and pulling him forward into a kiss. It's so practiced and composed and it drives Bruce _nuts_ just with the implications, and he's all the more eager to get down to business for having had that little bit.

But he's not entirely sure what he wants to do. Lots of kissing, yes. Lots of touching. But it's hard to say how far he wants to push things as Kal tugs Bruce's shirt out of his pants and slips his hand underneath. The skin on skin is enough for Bruce to realize that they can't just do things by the door, and he sets about trying to guide Kal over to the bed, if only to make sure neither of them falls.

Probably him. Kal can fly, and Bruce isn't entirely clear if he's even capable of falling.

He eases Kal back onto the bed before joining him there, sitting beside him with their thighs pressed tight together, his torso twisted to face Kal properly. Bruce doesn't understand how Kal managed to make it to the bed without ever stopping kissing him, but he's happy for it anyway. He loves it. He loves the way Kal's touching him, loves the sense of _safety_ that comes from being home, loves the way Kal's hands dart lower and lower until he finally cups Bruce through his pants.

"Oh," Kal says, looking almost crestfallen. "I was hoping you were still... ah, small. I wanted to see."

Scientific to the end, his demeanor is so funny Bruce can't stop himself from cracking up.

"You'll have a hard time with that. Being around you tends to get me riled up."

Kal kisses him again and Bruce has a hard time managing any more words. Kal's hands are lighting a fire in him. He _wants_ Kal. He wants to kiss him and touch him and hold him. If asked, Bruce knows that without hesitation he'd describe Kal as the perfect man, and he _knows_ he's right.

Even if he's only known Kal a short while, he doesn't doubt it. Physically, Kal is his type, but the physical barely even rates in comparison to everything else. Kal is, if not by Kryptonian standards, then certainly by human ones, a genius. He's quick-witted and shockingly adaptable, rolling with the punches even on a strange planet, dealing with things that would drive anyone else to despair.

But it's the bravery that really does it for Bruce. Kal has stuck his neck out over and over, doing what he can to make sure that Bruce would be okay. Making sure Bruce, at the end of the day, got _home_ to the people who care about him.

And he's not going to get the same chance.

"Bruce," Kal says quietly, and Bruce is suddenly aware of Kal's hands on his face. He feels strange, hot and confused, caught up on his own head. "Bruce, you're crying."

He didn't know he was crying until Kal pointed it out, but now that he has it's hard to miss. His eyes are wet. His cheeks are wet. He's crying.

"I guess I am," he croaks. "Sorry. I didn't..." He didn't mean to ruin it. They were supposed to be having fun and instead he's crying and he can't make himself stop. Kal's hands are still cradling his face, his expression the picture of concern as he studies Bruce intently.

"We can stop. We can stop if you're upset by this—"

"No!" Bruce blurts desperately. Not _no, we can't stop,_ because he's not sure he could make himself keep going if he tried, but _no,_ he's not upset by this. "This isn't... this isn't about this. This is just..." He doesn't even know how to vocalize it. He doesn't know how to explain.

He's not even sure himself. What part of it is the part that broke the dam? The fact that he knows something terrible and has been keeping it from Kal? The fact that Kal is, almost without question, alone, his family long dead and gone?

The fact that Kal will inevitably leave him? If not from the betrayal of hiding the truth, then from the misery of what's happening.

"Are you happy being with me?" Kal asks, and the question is so out of nowhere that Bruce takes a second to puzzle out a response.

"Yes. Yes, I'm... I like this. I just... I'm a bit overwhelmed right now."

"Do you know what's wrong?"

That question makes things clear. Kal's trying to figure out what's happening at the same time Bruce is.

"No. Yes. I... It's complicated."

Kal leans forward, pressing a kiss to Bruce's forehead. It's a tender, careful gesture, and it only makes Bruce's eyes water that much more.

"Then you don't have to tell me. Just take your time, Bruce. I'll be here when you're ready to talk about it."

Kal is giving him an out, but Bruce knows he shouldn't. Kal doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't know that a big part of it is the horrible secret he's keeping from Kal.

No matter how often Bruce tells himself that he's wrong, he knows he isn't. The evidence is constantly growing.

But Kal is nothing if not accepting. He showers Bruce in attention, not pushing him in the slightest. He helps Bruce clean up, and when he's done he brings Bruce back to bed, curling up against him.

"Get some sleep, Bruce. It's late."

Bruce can't. He lies awake long after Kal's slipped off to sleep, staring at the ceiling as the hours tick by. It has to be past four in the morning when he finally breaks the silence, his voice barely over a whisper.

"God, if you can hear this, please let me be wrong."

He hasn't believed in God since the day he was splattered with his parent's own blood, but he figures it can't hurt to try.

He so desperately wants to be wrong.


	25. Chapter 25

Apparently both Kal and Alfred conspire the following morning, because it's almost noon when Bruce wakes in his bed. He speeds through getting dressed and heads downstairs to find everyone, and Alfred intercepts him in the hall before he even has to wander too much.

"Lunch will be ready in around thirty minutes. Mr. El is currently down in the basement, working on his machine. He explained what transpired yesterday, and that you would be busy tomorrow. He also asked to be disturbed as little as possible so he can finish working on the transmitter."

Bruce doesn't know if the _do not be disturbed_ was intended to include him, but it doesn't matter. Kal needs to focus on his work, and Bruce's chest feels tight at the thought of speaking with him right then. He needs space. He needs air.

"I think I'm going to go for a quick walk around the grounds," Bruce says. "Stretch my legs. No calls?"

"No calls," Alfred confirms. Bruce isn't surprised; half the reason they went to Jacob at all was because getting a hold of anyone official was going to be a struggle.

The walk helps a great deal. By the time he makes it back to the house, lunch is ready, and Kal comes up to join them, apparently having not eaten since he woke. He makes no comment about what happened the night before, and Bruce follows his lead, eating as quickly as Kal does.

"I should be done by late this afternoon," Kal says. "I lifted some things around the cave and I can definitely hit five hundred pounds without issue, but I couldn't figure out what would be heavier to lift."

"I'll handle that." He has a few ideas, and the fact that he could _easily_ lift a quarter ton gives Bruce something to work with. "Focus on the transmitter. If that doesn't work, the whole thing will be pointless."

Kal nods and excuses himself, and Bruce goes to make himself useful.

Lifting a car feels like the most obvious example possible, and also one of the more impressive. But Bruce also knows that a car isn't going to stay together if lifted over someone's head, and he's not willing to sacrifice one of his own on a theory. He calls a wrecker who has a car that's together enough for Bruce's purposes and offers to pay him extra to get it there that afternoon.

Then he calls Jacob, careful to avoid saying anything that might tip anyone off. There's no telling if their conversation is being listened in on, so he simply tells him that five hundred pounds is a conservative estimate, and he'll have a better number in a few hours. Jacob tells him he'll make preparations, but that he needs to go, and Bruce suddenly finds himself full of nervous energy.

He puts his concerns about the transmission out of mind. No matter what Kal finds on the other end, the transmission still matters. He revises the speech Kal's going to make three times, and only stops when the wrecker arrives with the poor damaged car. He pays the baffled owner handsomely and sends him on his way once he's parked it around the back of the house, and only once he's gone does he go summon Kal.

"Is now a good time?"

"Any time is good," Kal calls up, immediately standing from the workbench. "Or good enough. I think I'm done, I'm just... double-checking everything."

"Perfect. I just had a damaged car dropped off for you to try lifting."

"Damaged?" Kal asks as he heads up the stairs towards Bruce. He's so composed that even Bruce feels envious. He's acting like nothing happened, and Bruce does what he can to follow Kal's example.

"Lifting a car would likely damage the structure. I'd rather avoid damaging one of mine for a test. This also means that if you lift it and feel like it's too heavy, you can just drop it and not worry about gently setting it down."

"Oh. That's fair." Kal seems preoccupied as they head out back, and to Bruce's _immense_ alarm he simply heads straight to the car, bends down, and grabs the bumper before starting to lift. No warm ups. No stretching. Just _lifting._

The car goes up easily. Kal shifts position to get a better grip, but the angle seems like a larger hindrance to him than the weight, and within a minute he's found the right ways to hold it, and he has the entire thing over his head (even if it's creaking ominously).

"Probably too easy," Kal admits. "Do we have something bigger?"

"Not handy," Bruce says. "The easiest way would be to go to a building under construction, but that would risk attracting attention. In the end, it doesn't matter: lifting a car is more than impressive enough, and we don't _need_ to show them your upper limit."

Bruce isn't even clear if Kal's upper limit exists. Assuming sunlight _is_ fueling him, he still hasn't been in the sun all that long. He's spent most of the day out of the sun, and his upper limits are nebulously defined at best.

"We can investigate it more when this is all done."

When they have time. When they're not staring down the barrel of a gun that could lead to a war so vast Bruce suspects it will make the Great War look small.

"All right. If you think that's best."

There's a tension in the air as they eat dinner that night. Part of it is excitement: they're doing something that's never been done before, something that the average person can't even dream of. They've gone so far beyond normal that it isn't even visible in the rear-view mirror any longer.

There's no telling what will happen the next day.

They go to bed early that night. Bruce has plans, but when he reaches up to start undoing Kal's shirt, Kal reaches up, taking Bruce's hands in his own.

"Not tonight."

It's hard not to take it as a rejection, because it _is._ Kal's rejecting him, and all of a sudden Bruce can think only of the dozens of things he's done that would warrant it. Which one of them set it off?

"You barely slept last night. You were tossing and turning even when I woke up, and I think you still didn't get enough. It's going to be a busy, exhausting day tomorrow. So get some rest."

"...You're not mad?" Bruce knows the moment he's said it that it's a mistake, but Kal handles it with grace, trailing his fingers down the side of Bruce's face.

"I'm not angry. This isn't... I'm not punishing you, Bruce. I'm just worried about you. You've been acting strange."

Kal is nothing if not tender as they go to bed that night. With sex—or anything even close to it—off the table, things feel almost relaxing instead. Bruce curls against Kal, and Kal's arms wrap around him, pulling Bruce closer to him.

It's impossibly comfortable. Enough to let Bruce fall asleep, his worries seeming distant and far away.


	26. Chapter 26

Bruce can't help but feel that they might have bitten off more than they can chew when he wakes up the following morning to find that Alfred's written out a list of tasks that Bruce needs to see to before he leaves.

When he finishes all of them within an hour (including hiring someone to come get the unsightly car wreck out of their back yard), he discovers he has the opposite problem.

There's absolutely nothing he can do but wait. Kal's already moved his transmitter (a large metal structure about the size of a car engine) into the back of one of Bruce's trucks. Alfred's made sure that Kal's Kryptonian garb is freshly laundered, and Bruce has finalized the speech that Kal's supposed to give.

Everything is in place, which is why it's a huge relief when noon rolls around and it's finally time to leave.

Kal rides in the car with him for the majority of the trip, and as they drive they discuss how they expect things to go. There's a brief debate about whether or not Kal should arrive with Bruce, leave, and then return, but instead Kal has a different idea.

"We have the time, right? They want you there for twelve-thirty, and everyone should be there by one. I want to see how fast I can fly, so I'll... do a loop around the area, I guess."

"You think you can go that much faster than you went carrying me?" Kal was already flying as fast as any commercial plane in service that day, and the idea that he could be going _even faster_ is nothing short of amazing.

"Oh, absolutely." Kal doesn't even have to hesitate, but Bruce does, mentally doing the math. After a moment, he reaches down, removing his watch and handing it to Kal.

"So you can keep the time. Please don't be late."

"I won't. Even if Alfred did explain the concept of _fashionably late_ to me just yesterday."

Bruce scowls, and Kal leans over, pecking him on the cheek. Bruce pulls over to the side of the road, letting Kal out, and watches as he lifts off. He gets maybe thirty feet up and then rapidly accelerates, shooting up and out of sight faster than Bruce's eyes can follow.

He's going to make one hell of an entrance.

The guards at the gate know to let him in when he arrives, checking his ID and warily eyeing the fact that Bruce has arrived in a work truck rather than a sports car. They're even _more_ concerned by the fact that he's pulled a sheet over the truck bed, but apparently they're under orders not to bother Bruce, because they wave him through, sending him on.

He doesn't get an escort because it's entirely unnecessary. The base is a hubbub of activity, and there's soldiers all around, directing traffic every which way. There's a large open area near the back of the base where bleachers have been set up, and people are already starting to file in.

There's a lot of medals and a lot of bars. Even worse, Bruce finds himself mortified by how many people in the audience he recognizes. Bruce has made himself a constant irritant in the eyes of anyone who's anyone, and now it's those same people he needs to impress.

Not that Bruce thinks for a second that Kal won't be enough to do just that.

Jacob's waiting for him when Bruce is finished parking, and he eyes the truck, cocking his head after a moment.

"Get it all done?"

"It's ready in the back. He said we should be able to connect it to your power grid, but he's the one who'd be handling that."

"Tech genius, is he?"

Bruce smiles and nods in response, and Jacob smiles back, a rare break from his usually serious demeanor. It doesn't last very long, and Jacob looks up, scanning the skies.

"He going to be on time?"

"He is. He has my watch, and he knows how important this is. He isn't going to miss the chance."

"Sure as hell hope not."

There's more and more people arriving, and even as far away as he is, Bruce can pick out faces. He sees Woodring, the Secretary of War and a staunch anti-interventionist, as well as representatives from each branch of the military. Apparently Jacob wanted to make sure it wasn't an army-only party, but that hasn't stopped him from putting the man in charge of the army in the dead center of the stands, ringed by even more high-ranking officers.

Bruce doesn't recognize them as much. He mostly deals with the civilian side of things, but the decorations they all wear make it clear enough who's who.

"How much do they know?"

"That I've become privy to important and sensitive data. That we're going to need a massive amount of power that could potentially short out the entire eastern seaboard for a brief period. That what I've got to show them could change the face of the world almost overnight."

Bruce isn't worried about Jacob overselling it. If anything, he's _under_ selling it.

"You eat?" Jacob asks, eyeing Bruce.

"I think I'd just throw it back up, if we're being honest." Bruce laughs at the very idea of eating. He had breakfast and barely got that down, but he's been nothing but nervous energy since then. It's do or die. Everything has to go perfectly.

Bruce doesn't have a watch, which means he's continually leaning over to check Jacob's, much to his uncle's great annoyance.

"Calm down. At the right time I'll make the announcement, and hopefully he can read the room enough to arrive on time."

Bruce is, for once, having a hard time keeping himself perfectly relaxed. Normally he's the sort of person who laughs in the face of danger, who goes off and explores the wilds of Europe just because someone suggested something strange might be happening there.

He's attached, Bruce realizes. The idea of something bad happening to Kal feels even more awful to him than the idea of something bad happening to _him._ He dreads what might happen, and is struggling to see a positive outcome. Even if everything gets resolved with Kal's help, it feels so obvious that Kal's going to get hurt in the process.

Two minutes before they're supposed to start, Jacob takes the stage. He gestures for Bruce to follow and take a seat just behind him on one of the two seats, and Bruce does so, keeping his eyes down.

He doesn't want to give it away.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Jacob says, drawing the attention of those gathered, who fall into a quiet hush. "I understand there's been some concern that I oversold the importance of this, and I want to reassure you that I didn't. Nothing could be as important, which is why I called together not just representatives of the army, but the other branches as well."

A man in the front row is the first to speak up, interrupting Jacob without even signaling for attention.

"How confidential is this?"

"It isn't. By the end of today the matter of confidentiality will be a non-issue."

The man looks confused, and so does most of the crowd. It's an explanation that doesn't make any sense without context, and Bruce can't blame them.

"To provide you all with some much-needed context, forty-one days ago an unknown signal began broadcasting from Europe. The source was originally believed to be German in origin, but it was quickly established that the strength of the signal was so vast that if it were German, it would represent a completely unknown and previously unheard-of level of technology."

That causes a stir. Bruce is sure they all knew that the signal existed, but the details were never spelled out so clearly.

"The man beside me on stage is Bruce Wayne, my nephew. At considerable personal risk to himself, he traveled to Europe and investigated the source of the signal, crossing the border into Austria. There, beneath the earth, he discovered a wreck of extra-terrestrial origins."

The response is immediate, the disbelief palpable, and one of the generals actually rises to his feet, furious.

"Really? You brought us all the way out here to spin us some archaeologist's story about an _alien ship?"_

Bruce can't help but feeling amused by the idea that he's apparently an _archaeologist,_ but he leaves it to Jacob.

"It isn't just a story. Bruce _did_ travel to Austria. He _did_ find a ship, which now is in the hands of the Nazis."

"And I assume you have some earth-shattering proof?"

Kal couldn't have timed it better. He descends from the sky, the red of his cape billowing out from behind him. He descends feet-first, and as he does Bruce wonders what he must look like to the others. Do they think he's some kind of a god? He looks more human than any alien from a story, his expression perfectly pleasant as he drops down until he's hovering just an inch or two off the ground.

"Hello," he calls. The audience is dead silent, staring at Kal with mixed expressions.

Most, to Bruce's regret, look afraid.

"My name is Kal-El." He carries on despite the reaction, forging onward with his explanation. "I come from a planet a long way from here known as Krypton. I was sent to make contact with the people of your world, but suffered issues with my ship. I was rescued by Bruce, have traveled all across Europe, and now I'm here because I want your help."

He looks to Jacob, who takes over seamlessly as Kal finally sets down.

"Kal has created a device that will allow him to contact his people. Their technology is hundreds, if not thousands of years ahead of ours, and the advantages they could bring to humanity are significant. He needs power in order to transmit a signal to home, but doing so will _also_ transmit to the entire Earth. It would be the world's first mass broadcast. One of a kind and completely unique."

Those gathered murmur to themselves nervously. None of them are ecstatic. At least, they're wary. Quite a few look genuinely afraid, and Bruce stands, wanting to do what he can to calm them.

"I understand this is probably strange and frightening for many of you, and it was for me too. But Kal and his people want only the best for us. They chose the son of one of their top scientists for this job, someone who represented the best and brightest of their people. Kal represents in so many ways what humanity can do if they come together, and that's what we're hoping to do now. We—"

The shot that rings out is deafening, and the moment he hears it, Bruce knows that whatever chance they had of cooperation is gone.


	27. Chapter 27

The shooter is a man from the third row. He stands, arms outstretched, a handgun clasped in a white-knuckled grip. He looks terrified, and Bruce has to tear his eyes away from the man to look at Kal.

Kal, who's standing there unharmed. Bruce thinks for a moment that the bullet's missed, but the shooter apparently doesn't think so.

With a shout of rage, he turns towards Bruce. Others in the audience react—most go for the shooter, although a few leap up and head towards Bruce himself.

It doesn't matter. None of them are as fast as a bullet. It's too late.

And then, suddenly, it isn't.

Faster then the blink of an eye, Kal is in front of him. All Bruce can see is the broad planes of Kal's back, shielded from the shooter by Kal's body.

It all happens too fast. Bruce doesn't even have time to be properly afraid. He's just _stunned._

Everything is moving around him, and he can't process anything other than Kal's back in front of him.

And then everything clicks into motion.

"Kal!"

He lunges forward, expecting to find Kal bleeding from his injury, but when he circles around him he finds Kal standing there, apparently unharmed. His hands are held in front of him, and he's staring down at his fingers, which are clutched around... a bullet.

Bruce's brain slams to a halt again, struggling to understand what he's seeing.

"You... caught it?"

"It was going to hurt you. So I... reacted."

 _Reacted_ is an understatement. Now that Bruce has had a second to process, he's coming to terms with the fact that Kal was shot, took no damage from the bullet, and then when the shooter turned on Bruce he moved faster than Bruce could see to throw himself in the way, catching the bullet out of the air like it was nothing.

"You saved my life. Or at the very least you saved me from serious injury, Kal."

And Bruce can't stop himself from worrying about how everyone _else_ will react to that.

The word _monster_ comes to mind, and he pushes it away. Kal used his powers to help a human, and he's hoping they'll see that.

He glances to where the attacker was, but there's nothing to see. He's surrounded, and it seems like there's a considerable scuffle happening just out of sight. Jacob's over there, wading into the fray, and there are so many people of such high rank that things are slightly disorganized as men who are _used_ to being in charge suddenly end up only one of many.

Bruce stays with Kal, as firmly out of the way as he can manage. He doesn't want to be involved in the arrest (or at least he _hopes_ the man's being arrested), and he's hoping that Jacob will come back to them soon.

He is. It's only two or three minutes before Jacob detangles himself from the melee, letting others take charge as he heads towards Kal and Bruce.

"Neither of you are hurt?"

"Kal stopped the bullet." He wants Kal to get as much credit for his rescue as humanly possible.

"And _he_ isn't harmed?" Jacob asks, looking Kal over as if expecting to see him spurting blood everywhere. "Nothing?"

"Nothing," Kal confirms. "It would appear I'm impervious to small arms fire."

Jacob makes a noise that Bruce interprets as one of alarm, and Bruce can't blame him. The fact that they didn't _know_ —that Kal not ending up with a hole in him was pure chance—is alarming. Bruce feels an almost desperate desire to check Kal over, to make sure he's not secretly hurt and keeping quiet about it or something like that.

"Now's as good a time as any to find out, I guess," Jacob says with a shake of his head. "We'll deal with the shooter. I'm not surprised that some of the men were frightened, but firing at someone who literally just identified themselves as a friendly isn't a good thing. He handled it terribly, and I hope you won't hold it against us."

"It's nothing." Kal is the picture of grace as far as Bruce is concerned, handling the whole thing with a dignity that doesn't match what just happened. He should be horrified. He should be upset. Instead, he's focused on what really matters.

"Do you think this will affect the odds of getting approval...?"

"Oh, only in a positive way." Jacob's laugh is a short, brief little bark that Bruce has heard a hundred times, but it always feels surprising to hear it from him. "They'll be eager to make things right with you. You represent an extremely advanced alien civilization, and one of our people just tried to kill you. The least we can do is help you out with this."

"That would be appreciated," Kal says. "The sooner we can transmit, the better."

"Give me a moment."

He excuses himself to go speak to the other officers, and Bruce watches him go. To his surprise, Kal steps over, closing the distance between them as he inspects Bruce.

"You really aren't injured?"

"I'm fine." It's sweet to see Kal worried about him, although Bruce is wary of him appearing _too_ worried in light of the things they've done, and he straightens up to discourage any more fretting.

The moment Jacob beckons them over, Bruce is quick to move, and Kal falls in behind him. He walks rather than flying, a fact that Bruce seriously appreciates in light of what just happened. The officials are waiting for them, loosely arranged in a half-circle, and one of them turns to Jacob when he gets back and addresses the subject directly.

"Officially, you have clearance to do what you need to do. Informing us was nothing more than a pretense."

"I was hoping you'd all provide some helpful insight before I blow the power on the entire east coast."

"There's no way to delay it?" an older man asks, and Jacob looks to Kal.

"It would be possible to delay it, but the longer we delay, the more distressing the situation overseas becomes. My ship contains a significant amount of technology that could prove extremely dangerous in the wrong hands."

"That was all I needed to hear. Colonel, you have the stage here. Pull all the power you need, and we'll deal with the consequences after the fact. Anything that can put a stop to the German aggression overseas is enough for me. Even better that it doesn't put American soldiers at risk."

The man isn't the highest ranked among them, but he seems to have some amount of seniority, because there's a lot of nodding in response to his words. Jacob nods to the man, turning back to Bruce and Kal.

"...Then let's get this thing underway, because the faster we can get this over with, the better."

Bruce agrees. Right then he just wants to be home.


	28. Chapter 28

The most fascinating thing to Bruce is the way people react to Kal. Most respond with a healthy dose of wariness, for which Bruce can't blame them at all. But beyond that, the reactions vary a great deal. The rank and file tend more towards fear. Plenty of soldiers cross themselves any time they have to go near Kal, as if expecting his very presence to corrupt those around him. Bruce can't quite blame them for it either. Humans are scared of the unknown; it's why they fear the dark. Kal represents the greatest unknown they've ever encountered. Everything he does is a question mark, and nothing about his behavior can be assumed.

It's the higher-ups that Bruce takes issue with. A few seem just as afraid as the men they're in charge of, but the ones who aren't afraid are the ones he's wary of. They look at Kal not as a monster or an enemy, but as an opportunity. They look at him and imagine the things he could do.

Kal isn't just an alien to them. He's a literal superman, a _man_ in every way that matters to them and yet so much more. There's potential there, and most of it isn't good. They ask Kal questions as he works, and while many of them are intended just to get him talking, many more have leading purposes.

 _What was your world like?_ they start, and when Kal talks at length they redirect. _Tell us about the guilds,_ one says, and yet another pushes it more. _You said there was a military guild?_

They are all friendly almost to a fault. The weapons Kal doesn't even talk about—just _implies_ —would be enough to let any country that acquired them win every war for a thousand years.

It's hard not to notice the similarities between the questions Kal is being asked now and many of the ones that the Germans asked only a few days ago.

He suspects that Kal recognizes it too, because he gives them many of the same answers.

Perhaps Jacob sees it too, because he steps in before things go on for too long.

"All right!" he calls, stepping over to be right beside Kal, which forces several of the men crowding him to back up. "We've all got a ton of questions, but we're on a schedule here. Mr. El needs to finish up his machine, and then we can get ready to go."

"I'm almost done, actually." Kal's looking the machine over, checking things with his hands where necessary, but doesn't appear to be making any changes. "It should just be a matter of flipping the switch, if Bruce has the speech ready."

Bruce produces the paper from the inside pocket of his suit, holding it out for Kal to take.

"This is audio only?" Jacob asks, and Bruce and Kal both nod at once.

"The broadcast shouldn't take long. But when it takes effect... everyone will know."

Jacob's eyes linger on the paper, but he doesn't ask to see it. Instead, he signals for everyone to move back, giving them space. The machine's been hooked directly into the power grid with thick, heavy-duty cables, and if Bruce didn't know better he'd think it were a very strange-looking car engine. He's not even entirely clear how Kal is going to speak into it until he finally reaches in, pulling out something that looks like a ship's speaking tube.

"Is that... a kitchen funnel?"

"It is. Alfred let me have it, he said he was going to replace it anyway." Kal's grin is infectious and more than a little bit welcome. They need the levity right then.

As Kal completes his preparations, Bruce reaches out, resting a hand on Kal's shoulder.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Kal looks at him like he's crazy, which Bruce supposes he is. It was a stupid question. There was never any question Kal would want to do it, and he releases Kal's shoulder, gesturing for him to go ahead.

Kal squints at him a moment longer, and then turns himself fully towards the machine, reaching out to turn it on.

For a few seconds, nothing seems to happen, and then the machine lets out a high-pitched whine. It lasts a beat, and then _something_ happens.

Bruce doesn't think he'll ever be able to properly explain it. All at once it feels like his entire body is _charged._ Like he's so full of energy he's going to vibrate out of his skin. He feels wide awake, a sense of electricity flowing through him, and a glance makes it clear it's not just him. With any luck it's only the people near the machine, but Bruce suspects that a great number of people are feeling something the way he is.

"Power's out!" someone calls. Bruce isn't clear if the machine is still getting power or not, but it continues working away anyway. He can feel the energy thrumming right down to his bones.

A radio nearby crackles on, broadcasting static. Then another one. The radios in the cars parked nearby do as well, and soon everything that _could_ transmit speech is.

And then Kal speaks, and his voice is coming from everywhere at once. It's a strange and surreal experience as the static cuts and Kal begins.

"People of Earth." He's speaking in English right then, but he won't be for long. "My name is Kal-El of Krypton. I mean you no harm; I come in peace." There's a pause, and then he repeats the message back. He repeats it in German, in Mandarin, and in Spanish, and then moves on with the conversation. It's Bruce's idea: not everyone speaks English, and four languages will widen the spread. He regrets not knowing more languages, because it's _his_ knowledge that Kal is pulling from. His Russian isn't good enough to make an announcement, and he doesn't speak Hindi or Urdu.

"I came to your planet with open hands, to make contact on behalf of my people. I understand that things are difficult for you right now, but I wish you peace and safety in these troubled times."

The longer the broadcast lasts, the more disruptive it is, which is why Bruce has cut it down to almost nothing. It's the most important fundamentals in clear and easy-to-understand language. Kal is from space, he means no harm, and he wishes everyone well. The constant repetition takes up time, but it also helps to disguise the end.

The moment Kal is finished Spanish, he says something else in a language that's as alien as it sounds. Kryptonian, in theory, although Bruce doesn't know if it's actually called that. He never asked, and it certainly doesn't matter then. The message isn't very long, and Bruce has no idea what exactly Kal is saying, but he knows the idea well enough.

_I'm here. Come find me._

The broadcast should be strong enough to draw them to him, beaming across space in the direction of Krypton.

And then the broadcast is done. The feeling of being _charged_ stops immediately, leaving Bruce feeling strangely exhausted. He doesn't say anything, just watching as Kal fiddles with the machine, setting it up to receive broadcasts rather than transmitting.

The power starts coming back online elsewhere in the base, and Bruce breathes a sigh of relief. As alarming as the disruption must have been to most people, it doesn't appear to have had any major consequences.

"God help us all," Jacob mutters under his breath. "There's no going back from that. It's not just the Germans who know... everyone knows."

Bruce scowls at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We told you the plan."

"Hearing you describe it and feeling it is something else entirely. You didn't warn me it was going to do _that."_

"He didn't know," Kal says as he straightens up. He looks no worse for the wear as he approaches the two of them. If anything, he looks to be in genuinely good spirits, and for good reason. "I didn't think about how it would affect those in the immediate vicinity, but at the very least it won't have any side effects."

"How large was the _immediate vicinity?"_

"Those in the city nearby would probably have felt a light tingle. But... that's an estimate. This isn't exactly standard practice on Krypton—this was effectively a purely hypothetical situation up until this point."

"Is your system... receiving?" Bruce asks, cocking his head towards the machine.

"I'll need a few minutes to double-check, but yes, it should be receiving."

"Might as well do it now. I'd prefer to get home sooner rather than later—we've been here long enough."

Kal excuses himself to work, and Jacob stays with Bruce. He can't get past the feeling of being unsettled, so he turns to Jacob to ease his worries.

"I'm surprised the military were willing to play along." He was expecting a great deal more resistance, and outside of one single soldier pointing a gun at him, it didn't manifest.

"The question of whether or not they'd help you stopped being a question when Kal caught a bullet out of the air, Bruce. The moment he did that it was clear to anyone who could manage a rational thought that we didn't have the power to stop him if we _wanted_ to. He could have asked for anything and they'd have said yes to keep him on their side."

Bruce frowns. Jacob's always been a straight shooter, but hearing it spelled out still makes Bruce wince.

"He wouldn't have... _run off."_ Kal's not like that. He wouldn't have abandoned them just because things weren't working out. They'd have found another way.

"They don't know that. He only just arrived, and as far as they're aware he's a free agent. The fact is, Bruce, that whoever has Kal has a massive advantage in the war. Even ignoring what his people might bring, he _alone_ could turn the tide of any battle."

"He's not a weapon."

Bruce doesn't mean for it to come out so harsh, but it does. The idea is repulsive to him, and he shakes his head, turning away from Jacob.

"Thank you for your help. We'll be out of your hair soon, but please keep in touch if anything comes up."

"Of course," Jacob says automatically, but he gives Bruce his space as he leaves Jacob behind, going to Kal's side.

Kal, who no doubt heard everything in the conversation. Who knows what people are expecting of him now.

Bruce doesn't even want to think about it.


	29. Chapter 29

Bruce has never in his life so desperately wished for the ability to teleport. The trip back to Gotham is so excruciatingly awkward that Bruce just wants it to be over by any means necessary. Kal's silence is telling, and every time he tries to think of what to say he comes up blank.

What is there _to_ say?

It's almost a mercy when Kal breaks the silence.

"Do you think it's true?"

"You're not a weapon," he replies without even thinking. It's only after he's said it that he realizes he could have meant a _lot_ of different things.

"I meant what Jacob said. That they'd have done anything I asked them without question."

The silence almost definitely gives it away, so Bruce doesn't bother playing coy and pretending like he's not sure.

"Yes, I think he's right. You are... something new. Something entirely unheard of. Humans have survived as long as we have by being cautious. Our first instinct is to react with fear to the unknown. It's why being _scared of the dark_ is considered such a fundamental part of human nature."

For once, Bruce is struggling to understand what Kal is thinking. He has no idea what sort of mindset he's even in. Is he happy they broadcast? Nervous about the response? He's a great big unknown, and his expression reveals nothing.

"Maybe humanity isn't ready."

The worst part about what Kal says is that Bruce isn't even sure he's wrong. He doesn't respond right away, turning the idea over in his head to come up with an answer.

He isn't sure he's satisfied with what he comes up with, but it's better than silence.

"I don't think anyone is ever really ready for that sort of first contact, Kal. I think a lot of people react to the great unknown in ways that probably aren't good or healthy. The man who tried to shoot at you—"

"I don't understand why he did that," Kal interrupts, looking pointedly at Bruce for an explanation.

"When he realized he couldn't harm the thing he was afraid of, he lashed out at something he thought he _could_ hurt. He probably thought I was... I don't know, a traitor to the human race."

"That's stupid."

"I didn't say it wasn't. But that was most likely his thought process. It's... well, the same thing I was saying. I don't think any species is ever _really_ ready to make contact." He hesitates, realizing the error in what he's saying. "Krypton appears to have done things in the best way possible, I would say. Sending someone prepared for it, thinking it over, scouting at a distance..."

Kal is quiet for a moment.

"This isn't _really_ first contact." Kal's tone is almost remorseful. "Tens of thousands of years ago, Kryton had... we were an _empire._ And then we withdrew and became more and more isolationist. We lost our moon when an outsider attacked, so we... well, defended ourselves. We made it almost impossible for anyone to reach us. We turned them all away. We know that alien life exists, and we... study it, I suppose. But this is our first contact with alien life in generations. In what we consider the _modern era._ It's one of the reasons I'm so happy to be here, because it means that we're finally opening up, and we've been closed for so long..."

"It means a new chance for your people," Bruce says quietly. He tries not to sound sad. Maybe he's wrong. Maybe it really _is_ a new chance for his people.

"I didn't think I'd get the chance to ever leave Krypton. This was supposed to be a... a big exciting thing, and the loss of my ship..."

"We'll get it back," Bruce says, even if he has no idea how exactly he's going to do that. He just wants Kal to be happy. He just wants him to have hope, even if things might very well go wrong.

"I was thinking I could move the receiver up onto the balcony. I know it probably won't matter if it's inside, but... I'd still rather have it completely unblocked."

Bruce certainly isn't going to object to that. The balcony's plenty large enough, so he simply nods.

"I was thinking I'd sit out with it. You know, so I don't miss anything."

"Does your machine not _record?"_ Bruce asks, horrified by the idea.

"Oh, it does, but..." Kal trails off, his meaning clear, and Bruce clears his throat, significantly relieved by the fact that Kal going to the bathroom isn't going to risk missing it.

"I don't see a problem with that. I'll talk to Alfred when we get home. Bring you dinner up there." 

"That would be great." Kal seems a great deal happier for the rest of the ride back.

When they're home, Bruce leaves Kal to his machine and goes inside to loop Alfred in on what happened. He brings up the fact that someone attempted to shoot Kal (and that he's bulletproof), but leaves out the part where the gun was turned on _him._ Alfred doesn't need that sort of stress, and it wasn't as if he was harmed or anything.

"And he'll be staying up on the balcony...?" Alfred seems deeply dubious at the very idea. "All night?"

"I doubt we'll be able to lure him down. He wants to be there—" Dammit, he almost said _if._ "—when they make contact."

"Well, then. I can only assume you'll be spending at least some time up there with him, so I'll put supper on and then retrieve some sleeping bags for the two of you."

"Please, I can handle the sleeping bags. I'm not completely helpless, you know."

He grins at the old man who has, in almost every way, been a father to him and heads down the stairs to go find where he's stashed them.

Kal's already settled in when Bruce makes it up to the balcony, but seems happy for the offered warmth. When Alfred brings out dinner, they eat together and watch the sunset.

Kal's machine remains silent.

"I think I'll spend the night out here," Kal says, as if that weren't already obvious.

"I know. I brought bags for both of us, Kal. I don't think this will be able to be a twenty-four hour thing for me, but the least I can do is spend the time I can."

Kal reaches out, catching Bruce's hand in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you. It means a lot that you're here, Bruce."

Bruce is wary about doing so, but he goes for it anyway, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Kal's cheek before withdrawing. He wants to keep it light after such a stressful day, and Kal seems to appreciate it, leaning against him heavily.

Bruce gets some sleep that night, but he's pretty sure Kal doesn't.


	30. Chapter 30

Bruce sleeps that night, but he doesn't think Kal does at all. When he wakes with the rising sun, Kal is still awake, sitting just beside the machine and staring at it as if he expects, at any moment, for it to activate. For it to suddenly have a message from his home.

It doesn't.

Bruce stays out on the balcony with Kal until Alfred's brought breakfast, and then he retires inside to get some work done, leaving Kal to his vigil.

The news, of course, cares about only one thing. Even with a massive war currently active, Bruce has to flip to page six just to find news that _isn't_ about Kal's broadcast. The overwhelming majority of it is speculation, although several people correctly link the (thankfully only local) blackout to the transmission. The military's kept quiet, but it hasn't even been a full day, and Bruce has no doubt that it won't be long before one of the soldiers runs off to the press. Tomorrow, most likely.

Bruce calls Jacob, making sure he's aware that no, they don't have any updates, and then goes fishing for information about how Europe is responding. There's not much to find, of course, but at the very least there haven't been any disasters since Kal's message went out.

That's something.

There's a lot of little things for Bruce to do, but he's having a hard time focusing on any of them. His mind keeps drifting away to the man sitting up on the roof, waiting for a message that's going to break him in half.

But the fact that they haven't heard back is a new level of concerning. 

Bruce had assumed from the very beginning that Krypton would respond to Kal. Bruce just expected that the message would be a grim one: that Kal's family is long dead, and he's left them behind.

The lack of response feels like he's misjudged the situation somehow, but no matter how he puzzles over it he comes up with nothing. Is there an issue with the broadcast itself? With the loss of their first ambassador, did they assume the worst and become even more isolationist?

The idea of it is horrible, but the fact that it would doom Kal to spending the rest of his life wondering is even worse. There's a special kind of pain in not knowing, in always wondering and never getting closure.

Bruce knows all about that. He's always wondered why his parents died, and accepting that he'll never know is a wound that isn't ever going to heal.

He gives up on doing his work around lunch. He fetches a book from the library, collects lunch from Alfred for both him and Kal, and joins him on the balcony. He doesn't need to ask if Kal's heard anything, because Bruce already knows the answer.

Kal seems even quieter and more withdrawn then he was that morning. He seems to be curling inward, and it takes a bit for him to even accept the food.

"You need to eat," Bruce says.

"It's unclear if I actually do need to eat or not." Kal's reply isn't exactly encouraging. "There are plenty of things about my biology we don't know. If I need to eat. If I need to breathe. I'm an alien, and just because things worked one way on Krypton doesn't mean they work the same way here." His expression is grim, the reality of what's coming weighing on him heavily.

"Kal..."

Kal says nothing, so Bruce settles in beside him and says nothing as well.

He reads. He tries to distract himself from the situation, but it's difficult to do. Every few lines his mind drifts back to the subject at hand: the silence, the ever-growing period of time without contact.

Bruce considers his options. What will he do if they hit twenty-four hours? Forty-eight? If they go a week without hearing back?

In the end, though, there's only one answer: nothing. Everything is up to Kal. He's the one who gets to decide when they stop waiting by a silent machine for a call that might not come.

The realization hits Bruce just before dinner. It isn't a slow dawning, hitting Bruce like a train instead. One moment he's wondering if he's going to have to force Kal to eat dinner, and the next he _understands._

He gets it at last.

Kal's behavior is all wrong. Someone eagerly awaiting a response from home would likely be _more_ vocal as time went on. They'd ask questions. They'd wonder aloud. Speculate.

Kal isn't doing any of that because he isn't eagerly awaiting a response from home.

Kal is smart—at least as smart as Bruce and with plenty of advantages Bruce doesn't have—and he put the pieces together the same way Bruce himself did. He looked at the way the ship had fused with the wall, becoming part of the cave. He looked at all the signs. The ship would keep him alive, perfectly preserved, long past when Kal was originally supposed to arrive.

Kal has always known, deep down, that the response he would get from Krypton wouldn't be good. He was just, like Bruce himself, in denial. He's clung desperately to the hope that he was wrong, made the call, and hoped beyond all hopes that everything he understood was incorrect and that he'd get a message back from Krypton telling him that his parents have been waiting to hear from him.

Bruce doesn't say anything, just moves over and wraps an arm around Kal's shoulders. Kal's knees are pulled up, and when Bruce provides that tiny little bit of comfort he buries his face in his knees.

Bruce thinks he hears Kal sobbing, but he doesn't ask, providing all the comfort he can to a man who is coming to terms with having lost everything.


	31. Chapter 31

In the end, they don't talk about it at all. Kal continues his silent vigil through dinner, becoming more and more withdrawn as time goes by. He seems comforted by Bruce's presence, but only slightly, so when Alfred appears late that evening requesting Bruce come inside, he does, giving Kal a quick pat on the back.

"Mister Kane is on the phone," Alfred says curtly. "He said it was quite urgent, to the point that when I implied you had gone to bed for the night I was told to wake you."

Bruce can think of a lot of reasons that Jacob would need him _urgently,_ and he doesn't like any of them. Of course he still answers, but it's with obvious trepidation that he only just manages to keep out of his voice.

"It's Bruce."

"Took long enough. I need you and your guest over at the base _immediately._ Fly straight over, don't even bother with cars."

"People are going to see—"

"Doesn't matter."

Bruce doesn't like _anything_ about what he's hearing, and he's sure as hell not going to fly Clark to a military base without context.

"I'm going to need to know why."

Jacob's response is a pained sigh, but he does actually answer.

"There's an alien here who wants to talk with him."

Bruce's brain slams to a halt. An alien?

"A Kryptonian?"

"The guy's got red skin, and I don't mean he's a native, so I don't think so. He's something else entirely, but he's requesting to speak to Kal-El of Krypton and claims to be representing some sort of _intergalactic police force."_

Oh.

"We'll be down right away."

He runs rather than walks back to the balcony, and Alfred follows close behind. Time matters, because the longer there's an alien lingering by the base, the more likely something will happen that could cause an absolute disaster. Red skin all but confirms they aren't Kryptonian, but they might still be able to put them in contact with Kal's planet. They'll have _something_.

"Kal!" Bruce bursts onto the balcony at full speed, and Kal gawks at him, obviously confused. Bruce isn't sure if he couldn't hear the conversation at all, or if he was simply being polite and not listening in. "My uncle just called. There's an alien at the military base looking for you. Not a Kryptonian, but he claimed to be... some sort of police."

Kal is on his feet so fast he's little more than a blur, and then there's a moment of confused panic as he looks back to his device.

"I assume you won't be gone overly long," Alfred says. "I'll be happy to stay out here and keep watch while you tend to things."

"Thank you," Kal says, reaching forward to clasp Alfred's hands in his own. "I swear we'll be back soon."

"The flight isn't far," Bruce points out, hoping to maintain some level of deniability. "I could fly on your back?"

"Your arms around my neck, you mean?"

Bruce nods, and Kal bends down, letting Bruce move behind him. With anyone else, he'd be worried about choking them, but with Kal he's more worried about whether he'll be able to hold on. Kal barely waits for him to get settled before he lifts off, spinning in place to orient himself before taking off in the direction of the base.

He doesn't hold back on the speed. It takes all of Bruce's strength to hold on, and he's sure he'll have heavy bruising the next day. There's no talking at such a high speed, and the only mercy is the fact that they get there quickly.

It's hard to miss. Even if the military base weren't plainly obvious from the air, the fact that there's another humanoid figure floating fifty feet in the air would make it impossible to miss. Bruce is of the opinion he's more pink than red from what he can see, but it's hard to tell when his skin tone clashes so firmly with the bright green of his suit. There's a symbol on the center of his chest; Bruce doesn't recognize it, but it makes him think faintly of an hourglass. The entire suit is skin-tight, revealing a predominantly human shape. Aside from his skin and the fact that he doesn't have hair, he looks like he could pass for human the same way Kal could.

When the alien spots them, Kal gestures for him to descend, angling in to land on his feet in the midst of the military base. Soldiers are all around, including plenty Bruce recognizes from their announcement, but it brings him a level of relief when Kal immediately turns to Bruce, his expression undeniably concerned.

"I'm sorry I flew so fast. Your arms....?"

"Bruised. I'll be just fine, Kal."

The mention of Kal's name causes the alien to straighten up. He's Bruce's height almost exactly, and the only ornamentation outside of the suit is a green ring on his finger. Bruce is too far from it, and it's too small to tell exactly what it looks like, but it stands out firmly compared to his lack of ornamentation elsewhere.

"You are Kal-El, of the planet Krypton?"

Bruce spots Jacob arriving out of the corner of his eye, and nods to him as discreetly as he can manage. He doesn't really need to bother, because the alien's attention is purely on Kal.

"That's me. It's good to see the Green Lanterns again. For my people, it's been hundreds of years since we last turned away Lantern assistance."

The alien grimaces, and Bruce feels dread bubble up inside of him.

The news isn't going to be good, and he's sure now that Kal knows it.

"Perhaps we should speak somewhere privately. I understand you were a guest of these locals, who may be able to offer us a space to use." The alien's head turns, surveying the soldiers that have formed a loose ring around them.

Jacob, thankfully, steps up.

"I can provide my office. But I would request some sort of identification. You said you represented some sort of police force, but we have no proof of that."

"Ah. I had forgotten that this planet has not yet encountered the Green Lanterns, and would not recognize our symbols. The Lanterns exist to defend the people of the galaxy and to intervene in conflicts between planets. We rarely make contact with less developed societies which have not yet mastered space travel, unless of course they are in danger."

He holds up his hand, the ring on his finger glowing. Up close, Bruce realizes that the symbol is the same as the one on the man's chest. A lantern, in theory.

"I am Abin Sur, Green Lantern in charge of sector 2814. This planet falls within that sector, so I was dispatched by the Guardians to respond to a transmission that was detected a short while ago from one Kal-El of Krypton."

"Colonel Jacob Kane of the United States Army. If you'll follow me..."

Bruce wonders if Abin Sur has been told to walk to match the natives, or if he's simply doing so because it's what he's comfortable doing. It's a smart move either way, because once he's no longer floating over them like some kind of angry god, the soldiers are a great deal less wary.

With anyone else, Bruce would be wary of their office being bugged, but he can be relatively confident that Jacob is too security-conscious to let anyone do any such thing to his office. He doesn't make any move to go inside, but Bruce does, earning himself a confused glance from Abin Sur, which is all it takes for him to realize he hasn't introduced himself.

He offers his hand, which Abin Sur stares at for just a moment before catching on. His handshake isn't natural or in any way familiar, but the idea is there just the same.

"Bruce Wayne. I'm Kal-El's host while he's on Earth."

"He was the one who found my downed ship," Kal adds, already inside. Apparently that's enough, because Abin Sur offers no objection as Bruce enters and closes the door behind them, leaving the three of them at least mostly alone.

Abin Sur gets straight to business.

"Can you explain how you arrived here?"

Bruce looks to Kal. It's his question to answer, but Bruce is also unsure of what exactly he's going to say. Is he going to admit his suspicions?

"Krypton has long remained isolationist, but made the decision to try and tentatively open up. I was sent to Earth as an ambassador, but unfortunately my ship appears to have crashed. I was..." Doubt flickers across his expression, and Bruce fights the urge to reach out and take Kal's hand right there. "I have reason to believe I was within the ship's cryogenics system longer than originally intended."

He's not admitting it, but he's close enough to doing so that Bruce feels his heart starting to tear. Kal clearly expects the Lantern will have answers for him, and judging from the grim expression on the Lantern's face, he's right.

"I'm afraid your suspicions are correct," Abin Sur says. His demeanor is ice. He's preparing himself to deliver bad news, and they all know it. "While I am uncertain how long you were frozen, the exact date will be of no true consequence. Krypton is a planet that the Lanterns know only through record. It was destroyed long before I was even born, when the planet's core exploded."

Kal doesn't break down. Bruce doesn't understand how he stays standing, the pain he's feeling visible only in his eyes.

He hasn't just lost his family. He's lost his family's descendants, his heritage, the planet _itself._ The news is a thousand times more devastating than Bruce's worst possible theory. There's no going back from it, no recovering.

"Were.... were there any survivors?" Kal asks, even though he already knows the answer. Abin Sur simply shakes his head in response.

Kal is the last son of Krypton, and the knowledge is destroying him from the inside out.


	32. Chapter 32

Bruce doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even know if there's anything he could say that would possibly offer Kal any comfort. He's no longer steely-faced, trying to hold it together. His pain shows on every part of his body, from the way his shoulders hunch to the twist of his lips.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," Abin Sur says, as professional as someone can be under the circumstances. "While I understand your ship was badly damaged in the crash, I can transport you to Oa. The Lanterns will be able to provide a new home for you on one of our allied planets; there's a great deal about Krypton that has unfortunately been lost. You would be able to help... archive information about your planet, so that it isn't lost completely."

Bruce's stomach drops.

Abin Sur is talking about Kal leaving. He's talking about taking him away and never coming back. He was always only supposed to be on Earth temporarily, but with everything happening the idea of Kal leaving had felt farther and farther away.

Now it's front and center, impossible to ignore.

"I can't," Kal says, and Bruce feels a rush of relief that does't even last a full sentence. "My ship has more information on it. I would need that before I could even... could even _consider_ leaving Earth."

It isn't quite the victory Bruce wanted, but it's enough.

"And the location of your ship?"

"This world is in the middle of a war. The... the enemy nation has my ship. We were going to get it back somehow, but I wanted... I had hoped contacting Krypton would make it unnecessary."

Now getting the ship back is priority number one. It and Kal are the last remnants of a long-gone race, and even more importantly, it's the last piece remaining of Kal's home.

"Mmmm. Generally we are discouraged from intervening in single-planet wars, save in particularly horrible cases. There's always a great deal of nuance, and someone who isn't native to the planet isn't going to be aware of all of it."

"We can handle it," Bruce says quickly, a plan already forming. They need to get the ship back. _He_ needs to get the ship back, because maybe then Kal will have something that brings him happiness.

When Bruce's parents died, he clung to everything he had left like he was afraid it was going to go away, and all he wants is for Kal to have the same option.

"I was mid-patrol when I was rerouted here. I'll next be in the area within a few Earth weeks. I can stop by then, if that would satisfy your needs?"

Kal nods, and Bruce nods along with him.

"Then I should take my leave." His eyes linger on Bruce rather than Kal, and Bruce imagines what he's thinking: hoping that Bruce can comfort Kal, probably. Hoping that Bruce is as good as his word.

"Thank you for... letting me know," Kal says.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Kal-El. I wish I had better news to bring you."

Abin Sur goes to leave, and Bruce gets the door for him. Kal doesn't move, standing almost perfectly still as what remains of his self-control starts to flake away.

"Bruce." His voice is barely more than a croak. He sounds absolutely gutted. "Do you think you could... could get your uncle to bring you home?"

"Kal—"

"Do you think you could?"

Bruce is afraid Kal is going to do something stupid, and he thinks he's right to have that worry. He steps forward, taking one of Kal's hands in his own and giving it a squeeze.

"I'm worried about you. You just got... absolutely devastating news."

"I'll come back." Kal's voice seems to be getting smaller constantly. "I just... I just think I need to be alone for a bit."

Bruce nods, releasing Kal's hand, and watches as Kal steps out the door. He takes off almost immediately, causing a small sonic boom as he does.

Bruce is left standing on the doorstep of Jacob's office, absolutely alone.

The only mercy is that he isn't there for long, because Jacob himself steps up to join him, giving Bruce a concerned look.

"So?"

He isn't sure how much of it is his to tell, but Jacob is his uncle, and he's been nothing but helpful, so he tries anyway.

"Kal got some bad news. He just... needs some alone time. The Lantern will be back in a few weeks, but otherwise has no plans to interfere on Earth."

"...And the Kryptonian fleet that was implied to be coming?"

Bruce's mouth is dry.

"It isn't."

Jacob stares at him a moment longer, and then nods ever so slightly. He guesses at what's going to happen, and reaches up, resting a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"I'll drive you home."

The drive home is almost completely silent. Bruce stares out the window, watching the countryside on the way to Gotham roll by. Jacob is a good host, and asks him no questions at all, even though his job all but demands that he do.

When he drops Bruce off in front of the manor, his parting words are a simple offer.

"If you need anything, you know where to find me, Bruce."

"Thank you." He leaves the truck behind, and makes it all the way inside before Alfred finds him, his expression distressed.

"Master Bruce? I heard you arrive from the balcony, but Mister El...?"

"He needed some space. He... he got some bad news."

"Oh, dear," Alfred says, quiet and restrained as ever. "I wondered, with how long it was taking to get a response..."

The receiver is still sitting up on the balcony, and Bruce goes up to attend to it himself. There's no point in running it at all in light of what they know, but he doesn't know how to turn it off anyway.

Instead, he sits down in the little pile of blankets they'd brought out for Kal's use and waits, lost in thought.

He feels helpless. He should be able to help Kal, but he isn't sure how. He has the vague outline of a plan to get his ship back, but the more he thinks about it, the less confident he is that it will help.

But in the end, what he thinks doesn't matter. All he can do is sit there and wait for Kal to come back.

For Kal to come _home._


	33. Chapter 33

It's nearly the morning when Kal finally comes home. He descends onto the balcony out of the sky, his clothes edged with frost. He doesn't even seem to notice Bruce until he lands on the balcony and suddenly jerks in place, his head snapping around to look at Bruce, bundled up in blankets against the frigid air.

"...Bruce. Have you been out here all night?"

His expression is tinged with worry, which seems almost comical to Bruce. There's no reason _Kal_ should be worried about _him._ Not after everything that's happened.

"I wanted to know when you were back. This seemed like the fastest way to do so."

Kal bends down, wiping something off Bruce's cheek with his thumb, and then seems to second-guess himself, sitting down beside him roughly rather than standing up straight again.

They sit in silence for a while, just staring at Kal's machine. When Kal speaks, his voice is thick with regret.

"I knew. Or at least I suspected. From the very start, I couldn't understand what had happened to my ship. I couldn't understand why it was like that. Even if it had blown apart... but now it makes sense. I've been here for thousands of years, if not hundreds of thousands of years. The signal was simply blocked until recently. Maybe the Austrians were mining for another reason. Maybe a local opened up a path to the surface for it."

"It doesn't really matter," Bruce says, and he reaches out, taking Kal's hand in his own. What Kal's talking about is inconsequential, in light of what they now know.

There are tears in the corners of Kal's eyes as his head sinks forward.

"It doesn't. I'm too late, Bruce. I always worried that my family might be long gone, but this is... it's not just my family. It's not just my friends and all the people I knew. My entire... my entire _everything._ I'll never stand on Krypton again. I'll never go searching through the library or stare out at the water. It's gone. My family probably... they probably considered me lost. When I didn't respond, they must have assumed I'd died. And I'll never..."

He'll never get to say goodbye. He'll never get to tell them that he's alive and doing well. Bruce knows that pain, and he gives Kal's hand another squeeze in response, leaning over to rest against him.

He can't understand the scope of Kal's suffering, but he can understand that one part. There are so many things he'd like to tell his parents, and knowing he'll never get the chance hurts.

It'll never stop hurting.

"I... suspected that you had been here a long time. I didn't want to tell you in case I was wrong. I didn't want to cause you pain that might be for nothing."

"I knew. You tried to tell me, and I didn't want to hear it. Hearing it from you would have made it.... _more real,_ and I didn't want that."

They lapse into silence for a while. Bruce doesn't mind—it isn't the heavy silence he's grown to dread, but instead a melancholy one as they take comfort from the other's presence. When the silence is finally broken, it's by Kal, and his voice is the saddest Bruce has ever heard it.

"You lost your parents, right? Does it... does it ever stop hurting?"

Bruce wishes with all his heart that he could say yes, but he doesn't want to lie to Kal.

"No. The feeling will lessen with time, but it won't ever really go away. Eventually you just reach a point where you realize that you have to keep going, even if they're no longer with you."

It took him a long time to reach that point.

Kal looks away, but he doesn't move far. They're still pressed up against each other, and all Bruce can feel is Kal's body heat and the feeling of Kal's hand in his.

"You're always welcome here," Bruce blurts. It's not what he intends to say, but it's what comes out anyway. He feels foolish almost immediately, his face burning with shame. Kal doesn't need him being clingy during what must be the worst day of his life.

But contrary to what Bruce expects, Kal smiles a tiny bit at the offer, giving Bruce's hand a squeeze.

"Thank you. Here is... I know I haven't been here very long, but you've been so welcoming to me. This place feels like a home. I... I don't know what I'll do when Abin Sur returns. But..." There's another long pause, and Kal squeezes his hand again. "I'll think about it."

It isn't a yes, but it isn't a no either. It's probably for the best either way. Kal's just suffered a horrible, devastating loss, and he's not in a position where he can make any long-term decisions right then.

"...Thank you for being here for me, Bruce. Having someone with me through all this feels... it makes it less painful."

Kal leans his head against Bruce's shoulder, and Bruce leans his head against Kal's head in turn. The circumstances that led to them sitting on the roof are awful, but even so Bruce can't help but feel a flood of relief.

There's no longer a secret hanging over them. They know the truth, as grim as it is, and it's something they can share.

They fall asleep that night curled against each other on the balcony, exhausted emotionally from everything that's happened. But even as they sleep, Kal's hand remains clasped in his.

Bruce sleeps easy that night.


	34. Chapter 34

The following morning, they say goodbye to Kal's machine. Knowing there won't be any contact from Krypton means it no longer has any use, and Kal disconnects it and breaks it down into chunks. Bruce suggests he store them down in the basement so they can be reused, and Kal acquiesces, carrying them down by himself.

Alfred seems relieved they're joining him for breakfast rather than spending another day on the balcony, but the moment they're finished eating, Bruce gets straight to the point.

"We need to deal with the ship." It's a big issue, and one that's only going to get worse the longer they leave it. The ship is the last bit of Kryptonian technology left, and there's no telling what information could be gleaned from the wreckage.

At the same time, the plan they discussed before is no longer the sure thing it once was. Destroying the ship was easy enough to consider with Kryptonians coming by to pick up Kal. With it being the last of its kind, destroying it feels a lot more painful.

He's not even sure if Kal is willing to do it, but that's why they're having a conversation at all.

"We can't just destroy it," Kal says, all but reading his mind. "We need to get the core first."

"The... core. Elaborate?"

"Kryptonian ships are made of..." He pauses, and Bruce suspects he's trying to translate terms over. "Sunstone. It's self-replicating and can be programmed like a computer."

Bruce is _vaguely_ aware of the concept of _computer programming_ , but he's never so much as touched one.

That doesn't stop him from nodding anyway.

"We used it for construction, and it was used to make my ship."

"The stuff I thought was ice?"

"That was it. It absorbs sunlight and uses it for power. I can only imagine how powerful it would be under the Earth's sun."

Bruce can only imagine how dangerous that would be.

"Core?"

"Oh, right," Kal says quickly. "In theory, all pieces of sunstone can be programmed. But that poses an obvious security risk, so most sunstone has that ability limited. The part that can be programmed is called the sunstone core. It can remotely access all the other sunstone that grew from it."

Wait a second.

"So you could use the core to destroy the other parts... _and_ you could use it to build a new ship?"

"Or a new structure, yes. Not quickly, it takes time."

The more he hears, the more obvious it becomes that they _have_ to get the core back.

"Should the core have been near you?"

A simple enough question, and the fact that Kal has to seriously think about it isn't encouraging.

"It wasn't far away, but considering how my ship seems to have crashed, it would be difficult to estimate from that."

"I am curious how you propose to locate the core," Alfred says. He's been listening, and truth be told Bruce is relieved to hear him weigh in.

Alfred has plenty of good ideas, and Bruce is hoping he has one right then.

"If I can get access to a piece of the ship, I can use it to locate the core. They're all connected, and since I'm an authorized user, it would point the way."

"Might I recommend that you get in contact with my old friends overseas?" Alfred suggests. "It would seem highly likely that the Germans are moving what they've excavated to Berlin. Britain might be able to point you in the direction of some of those supplies. Intercepting them would seem to be a great deal less dangerous then infiltrating the cave system where you were first discovered, which will no doubt be heavily guarded."

It's a good plan, and far better then the nothing they've come up with. Even so, Bruce looks to Kal, who gets final say.

"That would probably be easier. Could you get into contact with them...?"

"I can make some calls. It's afternoon there, so now would be the perfect time. Hopefully we could hear from someone late today."

"If we're going to fly back—" Alfred looks mortified by the very idea, even though he should have known better. "—we'll be flying against the sun. It would be best to leave not long before dawn so that we get as much sunlight as possible."

"I don't think it will be as much of an issue," Kal says. "I have a better grasp of flying now, so I think I could get there reasonably quickly."

"Even with me?" Bruce asks, raising an eyebrow. He's certain that Kal could reach Europe in time, but carrying a passenger is much more difficult. They had more time flying west, but flying back east limits their time.

Kal looks uncertain, and Bruce _immediately_ jumps on that.

"I'm not staying behind, Kal."

"It would be faster if it were just me," he says, and when Bruce shoots him an irritated look, he says his _real_ concern. "I'm worried you'd be in danger if you went."

"I'm the one who knows where to meet Alfred's contacts. I'm the one they've dealt with before. They'll act differently around you."

Kal's obviously still hesitant, but Bruce isn't letting up.

"You're not leaving me behind, Kal. Not after everything we've been through." The idea of just _staying in Gotham_ while Kal flies across the planet to handle it on his own makes him feel ill.

"I... I'll bring you. But we need to be more prepared, Bruce. If we want to get there safely, you'll need to be bundled up for the cold so I can fly higher. You'll need to—"

"I'll handle it. I have some ideas for how to make the flight easier, and we have the whole day, assuming Alfred's correct. It shouldn't take me more than an hour or two."

"I'd best get on top of that," Alfred says with a shake of his head. "I'll let you know if I hear anything more."

"I'll be in the basement," Bruce confirms. He needs to prove his worth, and right then, finding a way to let Kal go at his full speed while carrying him seems like the best way to do that.


	35. Chapter 35

Figuring out how to get to Europe safely is relatively easy once Bruce sits down and gives it some thought. Comfort is an element, but his biggest concern is aerodynamics: he doesn't want to slow Kal down. He doesn't want to feel like a burden.

Dignity doesn't enter into the equation.

The design he comes up with is effectively a heavily modified sleeping bag. It insulates him from the cold, allowing just enough air to keep him from passing out. It's the shape of the structure, though, that's the real masterstroke, because he uses the structure from a mountaineering tent to give it a rigid, almost rocket-like shape.

As long as the materials can hold up, he should be (mostly) comfortable for the flight over the Atlantic. He reinforces it several times over, and then goes to join the others for lunch, strangely proud of his design.

"You figured it out?" are the first words out of Kal's mouth. Apparently the smile on Bruce's face is enough to give it away.

"I think you'll be happy with it. I should be comfortable enough, and it shouldn't slow you down much at all."

"You're quite an inventor. Have we heard from overseas yet?"

Kal looks to Alfred, and Bruce follows suit.

"I've made contact on my end, but it's a matter of waiting for a return call. I can't imagine what they're doing over there, but I also can't imagine that they would take too much time. I'm sure they'll be in contact shortly."

Bruce can't imagine they'd make _the world's only alien_ wait, which means it's probably just bouncing through the chain of command until it finds the right person.

"I suppose that means you have the afternoon off," Alfred says with a smile. "Might I recommend you take some time to rest? I understand you have a long flight ahead of you."

Kal ends up reclining in the sun, doing what he can to maximize his energy, and Bruce goes back down and fiddles with his creation. He's antsy, eager to finalize the plan, and when Alfred calls down a few hours later he _runs_ up the stairs.

Alfred's holding out the phone, and Bruce takes it immediately, pulling the phone to his ear.

"Bruce Wayne. Who am I speaking to?"

"A friend," comes an unfamiliar voice. "I've already been vetted by your man there, if that helps things."

It does, so Bruce doesn't waste both of their time with it. He trusts Alfred, and if Alfred believes the man on the phone should be trusted, so be it.

"I'll be in London tomorrow and wanted to stop by to talk." There's no telling if the conversation is being listened in on, so he keeps it vague. "Where could we meet up?"

"Buckingham Palace." The answer catches Bruce off guard, and it takes him a second to process what he just heard.

"I'm sorry?"

"An address would be quite risky. Meanwhile, Buckingham Palace has _excellent_ security. Someone will meet you there, and we can talk more then." They don't ask for any further details. Not when he'll be arriving or how he'll be getting there. Maybe it's obvious. Or maybe they just don't want to risk anyone overhearing something they don't already know.

If nothing else, it means Bruce has absolutely no question he was in contact with the right people.

He says his goodbye and wraps up the conversation, but finds himself staring at the phone once he's put the receiver down. His plan—as little as it had been a plan—had been that it would take all day. Instead, it's not even time for dinner and they are, technically speaking, cleared to go.

He finds Kal still outside, lounging in the sun. He almost looks asleep until one of his eyes suddenly cracks open to regard Bruce with obvious interest.

"How did it go?"

"We're going to meet them in Buckingham Palace, which makes the whole _figuring out if they're legitimate_ thing a lot easier. I wanted to know if you wanted to leave now." They'd have a bit of sunlight, but it would mostly be flying at night, and he's not sure how comfortable Kal is with that. Really, he's fully expecting him to decline.

And he does, but not for the reason Bruce expects.

"I was actually thinking it might be nice to spend the night here. I haven't slept well the last while, and... I should probably be rested before we go."

Bruce hadn't thought of that, but now that Kal's pointed it out it feels extremely obvious. Kal probably didn't sleep well the night before, sitting up on the balcony like he was, and Bruce didn't think he slept _at all_ the night before that. Getting him some proper rest is probably the best plan before they do anything as risky as flying across the entire ocean.

"That makes sense," Bruce says. "We'll... relax, at least for the rest of the day. Have dinner with Alfred."

"I should have a look at what you've come up with. If you're coming, I want to make sure you're doing it safely."

"We've got time. Rest out here, and you can look at it after dinner."

Bruce stares down at Kal where he lounges, and then bends down, risking a quick, chaste kiss. They're on the grounds, and while no one _should_ be able to see them, it still feels extremely risky.

Kal's smile makes it worth it.

"I'll rest a bit longer," Kal says, staring up at Bruce with an emotion that Bruce desperately wants to believe is longing. "Tell Alfred that dinner smells delicious for me?"

Bruce can't smell a thing, but he nods anyway before heading back to the house.

Alfred is indeed already cooking, and the smell _is_ very good. He puts Bruce to work with some of the easier prep work, which earns him quiet acceptance from the old man even though he's leaving once again so soon after arriving.

"I know that Mister El will do what he can to help you, Bruce, but please be careful," Alfred says quietly as he works his way through dinner prep. Bruce can't tell if he knows about the attempted shooting or not, and he's not sure he wants to find out, either. "Please don't take any unnecessary risks."

"I won't, Al. I'll be careful, I promise."

"What worries me is that your idea of _careful_ is so at odds with my own. If anything were to happen to you..."

Bruce reaches out, resting his hand on Alfred's shoulder, and does what he can to comfort him, promising to himself that he's not going to do anything to make the old man worry.

Not if he can help it, anyway.


	36. Chapter 36

Alfred outdoes himself for their send-off dinner, and then it's off to bed. Bruce has no doubt that Alfred knows that they're sharing a room at night, but even if they've never spoken on the subject, he struggles to imagine Alfred reacting poorly. The old man is far too kind for that, and with how attentive he is... well, he probably knew before Bruce did.

They're just getting into bed when Kal gets a _look._

Bruce knows that look.

"Just say it, Kal."

"I wanted to... to look. You said it was different soft, but I still haven't seen it."

He's treating it so clinically, but the idea of Kal _inspecting_ him is enough to make Bruce's cock twitch. Of Kal just... looking. It shouldn't be sexual at all (Kal is clearly curious about human genitalia in general), and yet it absolutely _is,_ because it's Kal.

"All right," Bruce says. He reaches down, undoing his pants and doing the best he can to keep things mentally clinical. As if he's going to the doctor because someone stabbed his thigh or something similarly unsexy. It keeps him flaccid as he pulls his pants off and his underwear down, settling in on the side of the bed. And then, because he feels silly, he makes a point of removing his shirt and socks so he's completely naked, because sitting there with no pants _and_ a shirt is just... strange.

"Wow, it's really just... out there."

"All the time," Bruce mutters. "It's just... always like that."

Kal gets down on his knees and Bruce glares at his cock, _willing_ it to stay down. It offers a little twitch, but a furious enough glare keeps it down.

"It's kind of cute."

Well, if nothing else _that_ helps him keep it down. Kal's leaning in far too close, and Bruce can feel his warm breath against his stomach. Kal's fingers come up, and Bruce glares even harder at his cock. There's no way for him to stay completely flaccid with Kal so close, but he makes a good effort at least as Kal inspects what he has on display.

"It's sensitive," Kal says, his eyes fixed on Bruce's cock. "It twitches any time I touch it."

"It's... _I'm_ very... It's difficult to not be... aroused by this. By you."

Kal's eyes flick up to his face, and there's a smile on his face that promises something dangerous.

And then he leans forward and licks a stripe up the side of Bruce's cock.

Bruce has never gotten hard so fast in his life. It's the perfect combination: the look on Kal's face that all but guarantees he planned to do this from the start. The feel of his hot breath. The wetness of his tongue. The fact that he's still fully clothed, while Bruce doesn't have a shred of clothing on him.

The whine Bruce lets out is completely undignified, and his hand shoots up, covering his own mouth as he tries not to make noise. His other hand tangles in the sheets to keep him from grabbing Kal's head.

"No," Kal says quietly, his mouth right beside Bruce's cock. "I want to hear those noises."

Bruce doesn't know how he's going to survive. Kal is... he's just _too_ good. Too gorgeous. Too erotic. He flirts the line between innocent and naive and actually knowing _exactly_ what he's doing in a way that Bruce can barely comprehend.

But he lowers his hand anyway, no longer attempting to muffle the noises he's making. Kal takes it as encouragement, leaning forward and twisting his tongue around the head of Bruce's cock in one smooth movement, sucking it into his mouth.

Kal has never given a blowjob before. It's obvious, because there's a lot of awkward fumbling as he figures out what Bruce does and doesn't like, spurred on by the noises Bruce is making.

But he's earnest. Everything Kal lacks in experience, he makes up for with enthusiasm. He's willing to learn, willing to figure out what works and what doesn't. He tries bobbing in place and licking up the side. He trails his lips down to the base and presses a kiss there. Really, Bruce is of the opinion that _anything_ Kal does is perfect, but he's still composed enough to recognize that Kal is doing a better job then expected.

Apparently he's not doing a very good job of conveying that, though, because Kal pulls back, releasing Bruce's cock with a wet _pop._

"I'm not sure if I'm doing this right..."

"You... are doing amazing," Bruce says, even if the way Kal's cheeks have gone red is driving him up the wall.

"For a first time?"

"For... any time. You are..." He doesn't even know how to express it. How _good_ Kal is in every way. It makes him feel like his heart is going to burst, and the desperate desire to _confess_ burns him to his core.

To speak his mind.

To say how he feels.

But no matter how he feels, they haven't spent enough time together. It's barely been over a week. That's not enough time to know if the feeling is _real._

So he says something else instead.

"You're amazing, Kal."

Kal's smile is like the sun as he stares up at Bruce from where he kneels between Bruce's thighs.

Bruce's heart hurts just looking at him.

Kal doesn't linger long, leaning back in and swallowing down the head of Bruce's cock. It doesn't take long after that for Bruce to feel his orgasm rapidly rising, his entire body going taut as he struggles not to move his hips at all.

"Kal." He doesn't even think his voice would be audible to anyone else. "I'm going to... to orgasm soon."

Kal looks up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes of his and _smiles_ around the dick in his mouth, and then bobs right back down, swallowing Bruce as much as he's able.

Of course Kal, overachiever that he is, aims to swallow. Bruce isn't even clear if he understands the significance of it, or if he simply doesn't want to make a mess. Maybe he thinks it's normal. All that really matters is that Kal's still swallowing him down when Bruce loses the last bit of self control he has, rocking his hips ever so slightly forward and starting to cum.

"Kal..." His voice is hardly more than a whimper. His orgasm is a wave that rushes over him, drowning him in the surf. The feelings—feelings he has towards Kal and Kal alone—are so strong that the confession almost slips out anyway.

He only just manages to hold it in as he finishes in Kal's mouth, sagging back where he sits.

Kal pulls back with the wettest, lewdest sound Bruce can imagine, and stares up at Bruce, his lips red and deliciously wet.

"Did I—"

"That was amazing," Bruce says before Kal can even ask. "That... I just... I just need a moment to recover."

Kal lifts himself up, leaning forward on the bed to kiss Bruce oh-so-softly, and Bruce practically melts from the feeling of Kal's lips on his own. Bruce reaches out, twining his fingers into Kal's, and just lets himself enjoy the moment.

"Do you want me to...?" Bruce asks, looking up at Kal, who lets out a short laugh in return.

"I'd like you to get cleaned up and come to bed. You need some sleep, Bruce."

Bruce lets out a short laugh and goes to do just that. His legs feel like jello and he can barely stay standing as he cleans himself up, but sliding into bed beside Kal feels like coming home again.

He sleeps well that night, curled against Kal just as Kal is curled against him.


	37. Chapter 37

They wake not long before dawn. They've already said goodnight (and goodbye) to Alfred, so they leave the old man to sleep as they head down to the cave.

Bruce feels particularly proud of his invention, which amounts to a simplified, streamlined bag that Kal can dangle behind him.

"I'll ride in your slipstream so I don't add much drag. I thought stabilizers might help—"

Kal looks _horrified._

"Bruce, are you expecting me to... to, what, dangle you behind me?"

"I planned to be properly secured to you, but yes," Bruce replies, flustered by the reaction. There's nothing wrong with his idea, and yet Kal's acting like he just suggested hopping off a bridge.

"That's too risky. If the line failed... at the speed I'll be going you could be seriously hurt. I'm sure between the two of us we can come up with a better option."

It's past dawn by the time they do, but Bruce has to admit that what they come up with is better than his original plan. Kal refuses to give up on the idea that he needs to be physically holding Bruce for him to be safe, and in the end Bruce has to work with it. They're still using his modified sleeping bag with added structure to give it a bit more rigidity to keep out the cold, but the final product effectively amounts to them flying with Bruce tucked against Kal's chest. Kal suspects it might actually let him fly a bit faster, simply because it seriously reduces drag under him.

"I'm not exactly aerodynamic," Kal points out with a laugh. "This should help."

Getting into position is awkward, because Bruce has a very limited range of movement once he's suited up. Kal has to do most of the work once Bruce is secured, sliding into the harness that Bruce insisted on to make absolutely sure he's not going to slip off.

Bruce wonders to himself, not for the first time, how he managed to put himself into a situation that's even _more_ compromising then Kal simply bridal-carrying him to Europe.

Once they're in the air, though, Bruce is happy for the new setup. He'd never describe it as comfortable, but it's inducing a lot less cramps than being carried did, and it's a great deal warmer. He has only a tiny viewing window from behind the snow goggles he thought to bring along with him, but from what he can see despite his relative lack of discomfort they're actually going much, _much_ faster than they've flown before.

Talking is out of the question. All Bruce can do is try and zone out, focusing on nothing as Kal bears him across the ocean.

Time seems to move faster than it should. They're traveling east, which means they're literally flying against the sun, eating up daylight hours. Bruce estimates they'll get there not long after it gets dark, so he lets out a noise of alarm when Kal slows down enough to let Bruce know he's spotted land well ahead of schedule.

They've reached mainland Europe, and Bruce has to twist around to get a decent idea of the coast before he can direct Kal further. Locating the coast of England is easy enough, and London is easy to spot from the air.

Bruce estimates from the position of the sun that it's around dinner, and doing some quick math he estimates they've been flying for less than six hours.

Kal flies _fast._

They descend into London from air, and Bruce can only imagine how many people must see them as they angle towards Buckingham Palace. Kal takes it far, far slower, and works on unbuckling some of the straps holding them together as they descend, vertical, into the center of the palace's garden.

By the time they hit the ground, they've been more then noticed. Staff are pouring out of everywhere, gawking at them as they land. Kal ignores them, helping Bruce out of the suit as he detaches it from himself. Bruce makes a point of taking it from him and folding it up, because there's a good chance they're going to need it to get to Austria, let alone home.

"Mr. Wayne!" someone calls from across the grounds. "Mr. El!"

He's a dignified-looking man dressed in a fine suit that contrasts sharply with Bruce's own more _rugged_ gear, and Bruce doesn't recognize him in the slightest. Even so, he doubts he's one of the spies he's been sent to meet, because the man looks quite official.

Bruce is right. He's not a spy: he's head of security at the palace, and he's to be their escort. He shoos the staff away ineffectively and guides them inside, clearly having a good idea of where they're going.

"You're here earlier than expected, but we've all been on hand since your call. There's really not much doubt that this is going to be a pivotal moment for everyone, so they've pulled out all the stops, sir."

He leads them into a large conference room that's _filled_ with people, and Bruce scans the room, recognizing many of them. The heads of the various military branches are all there, both the officials who run things politically and the ones who actually _run_ them. There's a whole array of men dressed in nearly identical black suits that strike Bruce as probably involved in intelligence, and even more people he doesn't recognize who are probably helping the officials gathered around the table.

They've obviously accepted that whatever happens will be happening quickly enough that the Germans won't be able to react to intelligence about it, because they don't seem to have put much effort into keeping things a secret.

"Mr. Wayne!" someone calls, and Bruce turns, half-recognizing the man as the First Lord of the Admiralty. "Could you and your guest take a seat? We'll get right underway, because everything here is time-sensitive." He looks to one of the suited men, who calls the whole thing to order as they all grab their seats.

Bruce simple drops the flight suit to the side and lets it sit. He doubts they'll be there long, even if he's starving and sort of wishing they'd smuggled food in somehow.

"I'll get straight to the point," one of the men says without any sort of introductions. He's obviously important, because everyone defers to him, but Bruce doesn't have even the slightest idea who he is. "This is a time sensitive situation. We've already discussed internally what help we can and can't provide for you. In this case, while we can provide intelligence we've gathered over the past month, we can't provide any further resources or supplies. We can't contribute any soldiers, or even the help of any of our operatives on the continent, I'm afraid."

It's then that Bruce realizes how out of the loop they are. News hasn't traveled fast enough for them to have heard that Kal is bulletproof, only that he can fly across the ocean in a matter of hours. They're running on outdated information, and Bruce can imagine why: the stories about Kal are fanciful and ludicrous. They beggar belief at every turn, and that's slowing the spread of information.

Bruce just hopes the same is true for Germany.

The man produces a large map of Europe, already displaying several markers, which he points out one by one.

"The primary crash site is believed to be here, in Austria. This location is heavily fortified, and our intelligence indicates that it would take a full assault to penetrate their defenses. Even flying in by air, you'd be limited in what you can do. The tunnels themselves are heavily guarded, and the Germans no doubt are aware that you can fly."

Bruce rests his chin on his fist, leaning forward slightly to study the map.

"They've been excavating?"

"Our intelligence indicates they've only managed to remove chunks, not anything large that could be a proper hull."

"When you say remove, you mean..."

The man gestures, trailing a finger up towards Berlin.

"They've been taking them to Berlin for further study. Apparently urgency is being prioritized over efficiency, because rather than loading up a train and taking it all at once, they've been running multiple trains taking small amounts. The trains are also heavily guarded, indicating that the Nazis are putting a great deal of effort into ensuring that no part of the ship ends up in Allied hands."

Of course. Bruce doesn't doubt for a second that every country aware of the ship's location is trying to get pieces for themselves.

"I can intervene," Kal says, getting to his feet and leaning over. He taps the train lines that have been marked out. "Are there any other trains running on these tracks?"

"There are for at least some segments, but the shipments take priority. They're also easy to spot from the air, because they'll be the only ones that are so heavily guarded."

The Secretary of State for Air clears his throat.

"While we can't officially offer any help, if you were to try and take down one of those trains midway between Berlin and the mine... We might be able to offer a single unmarked plane of paratrooper to assist. Acting off the record, of course."

It bothers Bruce, the games that they're playing. England should have acted already when the Germans marched into Poland, and instead they _announced_ they'd be joining the war to help Poland and sat back on their hands doing nothing. They're within spitting distance of the threat and yet refuse to acknowledge it.

"That won't be necessary," Kal says. "How reliable is your intelligence about the shipments?"

"Having so many trains so heavily guarded passing up through Germany's interior is impossible to hide. We have multiple sources confirming," the man in the suit says.

The plan comes together neatly in Bruce's head. They'll fly to midway down the train lines, lie in wait, and take what they have. Kal can use it to find the core, and unless they're _extremely_ unlucky, it should be far enough away from the Nazis for them to dig up quickly.

"We'll handle this," Kal says, pushing the chair fully back and turning to Bruce for just a moment before glancing back to the man who is, ostensibly, in charge. "If there's an open space where we could depart from without being crowded, that would be ideal."

"When you say _handle_ this...?" the Head of the Air Force asks, glancing between them.

"We'll ensure that Germany no longer has any access to the ship or its parts." Bruce says. The details of how they're going to do that are completely unnecessary. "It won't be a factor you have to worry about."

"How in the hell—" one of the men behind him starts, only to be cut off by a wave of the hand.

"If they were going to tell us, they'd already have done so. Probably better that they don't, considering the Germans will no doubt hear about this meeting before long. As long as they get the job done, we should consider ourselves lucky."

Bruce is happy that there are some sensible minds, even if he doesn't agree with most of England's stances on things.


	38. Chapter 38

One of the stewards is directed to show them the way rather than having a whole procession, and they're led through the palace to a small private garden out back. Bruce hauls the flight suit the whole way, but it's only once they get there that he realizes something's up.

"Kal?"

The other man's expression has a steely quality to it that Bruce doesn't usually associate with him. It promises trouble, and where they are—in a far off country, well away from home and anyone they know—Bruce doesn't want trouble.

"I know you aren't going to like it. I know you're going to be angry with me. But, Bruce... I'm begging you to stay here."

Bruce's brain seems to skip.

"Stay— Kal, we just flew across the entire ocean. I'm not going to just stay here when we're so close."

Kal's serious expression gives way to a pained one, and he reaches out, taking Bruce's hand. Bruce is _deeply_ aware that they're probably being watched, but it's impossible to convey that to Kal right then.

"You've already been shot at once, and I... I'm not sure you realize how close you were to getting seriously hurt."

"It's not the first time I've been shot at, Kal. I can handle it." He really, really can. It doesn't bother him the way it would most civilians. He can roll with the punches.

"I can't." Kal's worry is only becoming more and more obvious. "Bruce... I know why you want to come. I know you want to help me. But what I'm going to be doing would be extremely dangerous to you. I can shrug off bullets. I can get out of the way. But I'm not sure I'm fast enough to do that _and_ protect you."

He's a burden, Bruce realizes. There's only so much he'll be able to do, and his presence will hold Kal back in every way. Kal will have to fly slower to get there. He'll be more visible. He'll have to constantly be making sure Bruce isn't getting hurt.

And for what?

Kal's the expert. Kal's the one who has to be there. It _tears_ at Bruce as he struggles to figure out what he could do to help, but there's nothing. Everything he can think of is so small as to be inconsequential, and Kal...

He doesn't want Kal spending the entire trip stressing over his presence rather than focusing on the mission.

Bruce grinds his teeth, and Kal winces.

"I... I would prefer to go with you. But if you think you'll be able to be more effective without me..."

"Not without you," Kal says, giving Bruce's hand another squeeze before releasing him. "You came here. You helped smooth things over. Your presence helped me get the information we needed. Do you think they'd have handed all that over if it was just me?"

Kal's right: the part Bruce has to play is over. He lets out a weary sigh and takes a step back, the flight suit still tucked under his arm.

"I'll... see if they can't put me up. Are you going to be all right flying in the dark?"

"I flew for hours the first time, and that was having almost no energy to start. I'll be just fine."

Kal's smile tells Bruce that things are going to be all right, even if he doesn't quite believe it.

"At least take the map," Bruce says, pulling it out of the inside of his jacket and holding it out for Kal to take. "If you start running low, just... take shelter somewhere. Don't rush back and get yourself hurt, all right?"

"I won't." Kal takes the map from him, tucking it away into his suit. "Where will you be when I come back?"

It's going to take hours at a minimum, and it's already late. Bruce runs through his mental list of landmarks and goes with the one he knows.

"The Savoy. It's right on the Thames, the big river. The northernmost point, right where it bends. Anyone could direct you there."

Kal nods and then lifts off slowly, pushing off the ground as if gravity is completely optional, and Bruce stares up after him, watching him go.

It hurts. It hurts and he _knows_ Kal will be back, but it still burns anyway.

Kal looks down at him, a smile still on his face, and then he turns away, heading southeast so fast that he vanishes from sight almost immediately.

Leaving Bruce alone on the ground.

He heaves a weary sigh and heads back inside to find the very confused steward waiting for him.

"...Welcome back, Mr. Wayne. I assumed you would be departing as well...?"

"I'm afraid I'll be staying a bit longer in London. If you could escort me out, I'll make arrangements of my own."

Of course they don't just dump him on the street. There's a constant string of officials who seem baffled by his continued presence, and they all make the same offers. They'll lodge him, they'll feed him, they'll do whatever he wants.

Most of them don't even seem to know who he is, but it's clear enough that the strange bearded American in clothes intended for flight who's been left wandering around the _palace_ is important.

It's long past dark by the time he convinces someone to drop him off at the Savoy. Even if he's never been, the hotel is famous, and so is he. He doesn't have _nearly_ enough money on hand to cover the trip, but the official who comes to the hotel with him puts in a word and Bruce finds his room paid for.

"I'm starved," he confesses to the concierge. "Is there anything that could be done about food?"

Of course there is. He is brought food from the restaurant to his room since his clothes are barely fit to be in the hotel, let alone the formalwear-only restaurant, and Bruce devours it all before falling into bed.

He doesn't like being alone. He can't stand the thought of it, and the reality is even worse. He can't stop himself from thinking about Kal, wondering where he is and how he's doing. He must be in Germany already, but there's no telling if he's found a train, or if one is even running right then. It might be _days_ before he's back, a fact that burns at Bruce and keeps him from sleeping.

But eventually his mind can't run anymore, and early in the morning his body gives in, letting him sleep at last.


	39. Chapter 39

Bruce wakes to a knock at the window. He jerks upright, head snapping around. Even half asleep, his first thought is Kal: that Kal's at the window, knocking to come in.

To Bruce's very sleepy brain's surprise, his first thought is correct. Kal _is_ at the balcony window, and he _is_ knocking to come in.

Bruce scrambles out of bed so fast he nearly trips over the sheets, pulling the balcony doors wide as fast as he can.

Kal looks no worse for wear. He looks the same as he did when he left, only there's an orb the size of a grapefruit tucked under one arm. It looks to be made of the same crystal that once encased Kal, but Kal doesn't seem to be paying it much attention. The moment he's inside, he simply sets it down on the first surface available—a dresser—and bends down to kiss Bruce deeply, his hands coming up to cradle Bruce's face.

Bruce feels like he's dreaming. Like he's still asleep, and Kal's still off raiding Germany without him.

"How— how are you back _already?"_

"I had something waiting for me at home, so I hurried." Kal's smile is infectious, and when he kisses Bruce again, Bruce feels like his heart is going to burst.

They fall back into the bed and Bruce wraps an arm around Kal's waist, pulling him closer. He feels so good, so _real,_ and Bruce feels almost overwhelmed.

He was worried, he realizes all too late. Worried that something would happen to Kal while Bruce sat in a hotel, oblivious.

"At least tell me what happened," Bruce blurts. He's sprawled out on his back, and Kal starts planting kisses down the side of his neck, and somehow manages to _talk_ in between those gentle touches.

"I flew along the tracks and found the train. They were right, it was easy enough to spot, and then I simply took what they were guarding before they could properly organize a defense."

"Parts of your ship?" Bruce asks, well aware that his voice probably sounds extra breathy. Kal's reached his collarbone, and he reaches up, pulling Bruce's shirt aside to press kisses there too.

"They led me to the core. It was just... buried. It would have taken years for anyone to have found it, but I dug it up anyway."

Bruce lifts his head to stare at the spherical core. It's right where Kal left it, and Bruce notes a flat bottom he didn't see when he first glanced at it.

"And?"

"The rest of the pieces have dissolved. I suspect I collapsed part of the cave, but it wasn't a _fast_ dissolve, so hopefully everyone got out all right."

Bruce hopes that too. There's no love lost between him and the people at the top, but he's under no illusions that the people in the cave system mining out pieces would have been grunts at best and civilians at worst.

"I know it was the right choice to leave you behind, but... Bruce, even just being away for that time hurt." Kal buries his face against Bruce's neck, and Bruce winds an arm around Kal's torso, pulling him tight against him.

As frisky as Kal was only a moment ago, he goes still, still curled against Bruce. The mood's left him, and when Bruce turns his head he finds tears in the corners of Kal's eyes.

"...Kal." He leans up, pressing a kiss to the side of Kal's head, and hugs him that much tighter.

He's lost so much, and all Bruce wants is to tend to his wounds and convince him that it will be all right, even if he doesn't actually know if that's true or not.

"Let's go home," Kal whispers to him, still pressed tight against Bruce. "I know it's early and you probably want to sleep, but..."

But he wants to be _home._ It makes Bruce happy just to hear that he considers the manor _home,_ that he feels welcome and happy there.

"I slept," Bruce reassures him. Maybe not as much as he should have, but enough. "Do you have the energy for it?"

"In the sun I could fly forever."

It isn't hard for Kal to convince Bruce to go home immediately. Really, Bruce finds the idea of not being around for the fallout appealing for reasons he feels are obvious. Right then they've done their part, taking a dangerous weapon out of the hands of the Germans, and as far as Bruce is concerned they've earned some rest.

He leaves a note for whoever comes looking for him, climbing into his flight suit and starting to zip it up when Kal reaches out, plucking the core from the dresser and holding it out for Bruce to take.

"Keep it safe while we fly?"

Bruce almost feels like Kal is expecting too much of him. The core's value is unmatched; it's probably the most valuable thing on the planet right then. The things it can do. The _cultural_ significance.

"Are you sure? If you'd rather hold it..."

"It'll be safe with you in the suit, Bruce. I wouldn't want to drop it any more than I'd want to drop you, so keeping you together works out just fine."

The fact that Kal apparently thinks he's as valuable as _the last remaining thing from his planet_ makes Bruce blush, and he only just manages to hide it by looking down and busying himself strapping into the suit. He ends up cradling the core in his arm, pressing the flat part against his body to keep it from moving around.

They leave from the balcony with Kal's arms tight around him, and Bruce doesn't think he's ever felt so safe.


	40. Chapter 40

The trip across the sea is even easier the third time around. Kal's mastered how to do it, flying at just the right angle to minimize the wind. It makes it easier to fly, but it also makes it a more comfortable ride, enough that Bruce can mostly zone out for the duration of the flight, Kal's arms providing all the support he might need.

Bruce's sense of time, however, is a casualty. His body can't figure out what hour it's supposed to be, let alone how long it's been since they left Gotham, and everything seems to smear together in a way that he imagines probably isn't healthy. He doesn't need to sleep so much as he needs to orient himself and adjust to a single timezone, and he's looking forward to staying in one place for once.

Too much traveling in too short a period of time.

They don't go through the front door. Instead, Kal lands them safely on the balcony to Bruce's room, and Bruce huffs as Kal simply lets himself in. It's not clear to Bruce if Kal picks the lock or forces it with a careful application of his enhanced strength, because he's far too busy peeling off the flight suit, which is, after two trips across the sea, starting to smell.

"I need to shower," Bruce groans. Of course Kal looks absolutely immaculate, hardly a hair out of place. "Please try not to scare him, but could you tell Alfred we're back...?"

Bruce dumps the flight suit in the hall so it doesn't stink up the bedroom, carefully placing the core atop his desk to keep it safe. Then he turns to the bathroom, stripping off to clean off.

But he doesn't shower. Instead, he bathes, soaking in a tub of hot water until the aches and pains of his body stop (or at least hurt a lot less). He's completely lost track of time when there's a knock at the door, and he glances up to find Kal peeking his head in.

"Oh, good. I was starting to wonder if you'd drowned."

"No such luck. Just soaking. Did you want to join me...?" Bruce credits the water for letting him feel so relaxed, because under other circumstances he can't imagine just inviting Kal to join him.

Kal's still dressed when he steps inside, settling down on the edge of the large tub. He reaches down, trailing his fingers through the slowly cooling water, and then turns his attention fully to Bruce.

"I wanted to talk to you about things."

"Things?" Bruce says, anxiety flaring. It's probably nothing. It might even be something _good._ His brain just goes to the worst possibility every single time.

"When I asked about becoming sexually involved, you said it was supposed to be a significant relationship. A milestone. At the time I said we liked each other and that was enough, but looking back... I realized you were probably hesitant. There was more at stake for you."

"I don't regret it," Bruce says immediately. "Please don't think I do."

Kal smiles at him, and he lifts his fingers from the water, reaching up to trail them down Bruce's cheek.

"I didn't think that. I know... well, I think you make your feelings clear, even if you don't say them."

Naked and lying in a tub, Bruce has no way to hide how red his face gets.

"You never used the word love, but that's what you meant, isn't it? That humans only have sex with people they love."

Bruce doesn't know why he didn't just say _love._ Love would have been easier. Love, apparently, translates over just fine. Maybe it would have saved them some confusion if he'd just said _love_.

"On Krypton, they say there are two kinds of love," Kal says. He turns a bit, staring out the window rather than looking down at Bruce. "My parents had _seed love._ Seed love is... small and fragile, but you have to give it attention, and then it grows and grows until it's magnificent. Slow to start, but as sturdy as any tree."

"And the other?"

"Rao's love," Kal says, and when Bruce makes a noise of confusion, he continues. "Rao is— _was_ Krypton's sun. It was vast and grand and impossible to ignore. Sometimes love is like that. The sort of love that you can't ignore from the very start. The kind of love that's impossible to miss. That's how I feel about you."

Kal turns to look at him, and Bruce's face burns with embarrassment. Kal's just... Kal's just _confessed,_ and Bruce doesn't know where he finds the courage.

"The first thing I saw on this planet was you standing up to defend me. You didn't know who I was, or what sort of person I might be, and yet you put yourself at risk anyway for me. It's stuck with me, and you've never let me down from that first impression. It's taken me a while to accept what I'm feeling, but now I know for sure. When I had to come to terms with the possibility of you coming along... with the idea of putting you at risk... I couldn't. Keeping you safe was more important to me than anything."

Bruce isn't eloquent the way Kal is. He isn't _in touch_ with his emotions. He can't just _say it_ the way Kal does, but he isn't going to let that stop him from trying.

"I... have always felt an attraction to you. Since the moment I first saw you. But here it is... unacceptable to be attracted to men." To say the absolute least. "I've spent a long time telling myself that I was imagining things when I looked at men and found them attractive, so I had to... come to terms with it. Accept it for what it was."

That he really did like Kal. That it wasn't admiration or anything like that, but real, genuine attraction.

"We don't classify types of love like that. There's... not that level of fine nuance between them. Not in that way, anyway." He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on what he's feeling, rather than what he's _meant_ to feel.

"I... I do love you." It feels like he's climbed a mountain just getting the words out. "I do. And maybe it's too early and maybe there's still more to learn about each other, but I still want to try, even if it has to be a secret."

Kal leans down, and the kiss is the softest thing in the world. It's impossibly tender, and Bruce reaches up, tangling his fingers in the fabric of the shirt Kal's wearing and pulling him closer.

"I want to try, too," Kal says when the kiss breaks, "and I don't think it has to be a secret."

Bruce doesn't get a chance to reply, because Kal simply carries on explaining, not letting him protest.

"I'm an alien, not from Earth at all. A stranger from a strange land, with strange customs. To the other humans, someone like you—someone who I'm willing to work with, who knows about Krypton—has immense value. You're irreplaceable to them, because if anything happened to you, they probably wouldn't get another chance. Not like this. I think some people would be upset you're dating a man, but most of those people would be upset you're dating an alien, so I don't think their opinion matters."

Kal makes it sound so easy, and Bruce doesn't think it will be. But at the same time, he recognizes that Kal is right: he has a unique opportunity. If they're public and involved, it would be the most high-profile gay relationship he can even think of. It would be impossible to ignore.

It might even help others in similar situations. It might make it more _acceptable._

When his father used to tell Bruce to lead by example, Bruce doubts he was thinking of something like this.

"I was thinking you could get out of the bath and show me how humans do things once they've confessed their love for one another," Kal says, and when Bruce goes to stand, Kal instead scoops him up, setting him down on his feet easily. He fetches a towel, drying Bruce off, and then leans in, kissing him again.

They fall into bed together, and Bruce feels giddy.

Kal is nothing if not a sensitive and caring lover. Even largely ignorant of how things are done, his ability to work things out is nearly unmatched, and when he lays Bruce back on the bed and kisses up the inside of his thigh, Bruce feels like he's in heaven.

"Show me what to do," Kal says. "I want you to enjoy this."

"I've... never actually done it," Bruce admits. He's flirted with it—even gotten close—but whatever they do right then, it'll be his first time. "I know how, but I lack experience."

"You have more than me." Kal leans over him, pressing another kiss to Bruce's mouth, and then pulls back just to smile. "So?"

"Human men would... do things by putting their penises in..." Bruce tries to make it sound technical, but he simply doesn't have the self-assuredness that Kal does. Instead, he reaches down between his own legs, trailing a finger across his hole. "In here."

"That feels good?" Kal asks, and it's a genuine question for once.

Bruce nods. He's not completely ignorant of _that._ He has, after all, tried a few times, just with his own fingers.

"Will you show me how?"

Bruce will. He _wants_ to show Kal how, and he takes a deep breath, spreading his legs a bit wider and nodding to the side table.

"There's a bottle there that should provide the lubrication that you need. Just... apply it to your fingers, and then go slow."

Kal's excellent at following instructions. He liberally applies the oil onto two of his fingers, and then a moment later Bruce can feel them rubbing at his hole. His back arches instinctively, shifting away from the touch, and he has to fight with himself to put his hips back down.

"One at a time."

Kal nods, pressing one oiled finger against Bruce's hole, and Bruce bites at his lip as it finally presses in. It isn't a pleasant sensation, but it isn't painful either, just strange and very, _very_ obvious. It's the sort of thing he could never ignore, and the fact that it's Kal makes it all the more potent.

"How does it feel?"

"Strange," Bruce admits, still chewing at his lip. "Not unpleasant, but... strange."

"Is that normal?"

Bruce can only shrug. Kal takes the opportunity to press a second finger in, and Bruce takes a deep breath, making himself relax.

"What am I supposed to do next?" Kal asks, smoothly working his fingers in and out. He's careful about it, and downright methodical at times, and the easy, gentle motions are enough to let Bruce's mind wander momentarily elsewhere rather than hyperfocusing on the sensations between his legs.

"You keep adding fingers until I can... until you can spread me enough to fit yourself inside." He pauses, swallowing hard, and then clarifies. "Your penis. And then you'd... put it inside and do what feels right."

"Do what feels right," Kal says, and it _almost_ sounds like he's laughing. "Right now I'm just worried our biology isn't quite the same."

"Similar enough," Bruce points out, halfway interrupted by a little gasp when Kal spreads his fingers. A third finger gets added before long, and Bruce prompts him to add some more oil as he starts working them in and out. His own cock is already hard, resting heavy against his belly and dripping precum heavily.

"It just strikes me as strange you can't control it," Kal admits, eyeing Bruce's cock. "You have so little choice about what it does or doesn't do!"

"All you're doing is making me jealous. I'd love to be able to just wave my hand and _not_ have an erection," Bruce grumbles. Kal's hand runs up his side before sliding inward, fingers wrapping around Bruce's erection and giving it a pump. Bruce reaches down, catching Kal's wrist and shaking his head.

"I'm... sensitive enough. If you do that, I'll finish before you even get it inside."

Performance anxiety is a million times worse when he's dealing with someone who might not even be bound by the same rules as a human's anatomy. There's no telling what Kal is capable of, and Bruce does _not_ want to cum all over himself before Kal's even put it in.

"You're loosening up," Kal points out, still spreading his fingers out. "I think I could almost fit, but it might be tight."

Bruce forces his legs back wider again, and Kal reaches down, wrapping his free hand around Bruce's thigh and hauling him closer to the edge of the bed for a better angle.

"Should I put it in?"

"Please." Bruce doesn't mean to sound so desperate, but he's sure that he does. He wants Kal _inside_ him. He wants to know what he feels like. He wants for Kal to be pressed up against him, kissing at his neck as he fucks into him.

He wants all that and more.

Kal withdraws his fingers, and Bruce is struck by how _empty_ he feels. He feels impossibly stretched, more than enough to be able to take Kal, and that's a comfort as he lifts his head, watching Kal peel off his clothes, setting them neatly to the side. Only once he's naked does he return to the bed, towering over Bruce as he just stares down at him, taking him all in.

"You're so nice to look at," Kal says, and Bruce has to laugh because how can _Kal_ say that? Kal looks like a Greek statue come to life, perfectly formed and yet conspicuously missing genitalia.

They don't stay missing for long. Kal's cock emerges once he's ready, pressing out in an action that seems both perfectly natural and completely surreal. It's redder than Bruce's, and already slick with whatever fluid Kal must be making inside of himself. Bruce can't tell if it's actually bigger, or if he's just imagining it bigger now that he knows it'll be going inside of him, but he no longer feels as stretched as he should be.

"Be slow," he says carefully. "I... you're large."

"I see what you mean about being called _small_ or _large_ now," Kal says with a laugh, and Bruce can feel his cock nudging up against the head of Bruce's hole. He's already wet, sloppy with oil, but Kal feels different. The texture's off, like something Bruce hasn't dealt with before.

"Do you need more oil...?"

"It comes out slicked up," Kal explains. "I don't need to add anything."

All Bruce can think is _handy,_ and then Kal starts to press in.

It feels so different from his fingers. His fingers, he realizes, were nothing. His fingers were a drop in the metaphorical bucket, and Kal seems to realize that, because he eases himself in a great deal slower than he was previously.

"Is it all right?"

Bruce doesn't even know the answer to that. He feels... well, that's really it: he _feels._ His entire body is wound tight, unable to focus on anything beyond what he's feeling right then. It's overly intense, and it only gets more so when Kal leans over, wrapping his arms around Bruce's back and lifting.

The change of position causes Bruce to slide a bit farther down Kal's cock, but it's not as hard as it should be. Literally being lifted from the bed by Kal gives him a better angle than just lying down, making the stretch less intense than it should be.

It also puts him more or less face to face with Kal as Bruce wraps his legs around Kal's waist, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to Kal's mouth as he winds his arms around Kal's shoulders.

There's no more room for conversation. Kal rocks up and Bruce feels Kal finally bottom out inside him, dragging a gasp out of him despite his attempts to hold it in.

"You're... squeezing down on me," Kal murmurs, burying his face in the crook of Bruce's neck. His arms are wrapped loosely around Bruce's back, holding him upright and supporting Bruce's entire body like he weighs nothing at all. He gives them a moment to settle, and then snaps his hips up, bouncing Bruce on his cock in a way that drags a moan out of Bruce.

He feels like he doesn't even have any self-control left. Bruce is used to having perfect control of himself, but with Kal there, pressed against him, he feels like a doll. It's too _good,_ too overwhelming, and when Kal snaps his hips just the right way, Bruce feels a jolt go through him like he's never felt before.

"Kal!" he chokes. "Right— _please!"_

He doesn't even know what he's asking for, but he knows that it feels amazing, and when Kal does it again he feels his cock twitch between them. He's not going to last long, but conveying it to Kal is significantly harder than it should be. He groans, burying his face in Kal's shoulder, and does what he can to pant it out.

"I— too much—"

Kal is almost always unflappable, but when he responds he sounds winded, his voice little more than breathy gasps that match Bruce's own.

"Should— do I need to stop?"

Bruce can't manage an answer. He shakes his head furiously, grinding his hips down against Kal, and them simply focuses on the way Kal is rocking in and out of him. Every few thrusts he seems to brush something inside, and it's one of those that finally pushes Bruce to orgasm. The noise he makes is nearly unearthly, and he squeezes Kal's shoulders as he rides out his orgasm in the most literal manner possible, bouncing on Kal's cock as much as his protesting muscles can manage.

Kal doesn't let him do so alone. He thrusts wildly, chasing his own orgasm with his entirely body tense. It doesn't take more than a few thrusts before he finally buries himself in Bruce, pressing Bruce's body tight to his, and starts to cum.

Bruce doesn't have any experience. He's never been with another person, let alone had someone cum inside him, but the longer it lasts the more convinced he becomes that Kal is _non-standard_ in other ways. His cum is almost uncomfortably warm, and rather than the few spurts Bruce let out, Kal's orgasm feels more like a hose. Kal is literally filling him up, and Bruce holds him that much tighter, whimpering at the sensation. In Bruce's opinion it lasts forever, but really it's not even a full minute before Kal lets out a final groan, still deep inside Bruce, and seems to finally stop.

All Bruce can feel right then is how _warm_ he is inside.

"That was... that was good," Kal mumbles into Bruce's shoulder. "How did anyone ever give that up?"

As tired as he is, Bruce still manages to crack a smile.

"Has it occurred to you that just because people weren't supposed to doesn't mean they weren't still having sex behind closed doors?"

He leans back just enough to see that Kal obviously _hadn't_ considered that, and his baffled expression is nothing short of adorable.

"I think... it's probably best to let me down in the shower," Bruce says. The warmth is starting to fade, and the effect is less than comfortable to say the least. "I'm going to make a mess when you pull out. Do all Kryptonians... ah, _release_ so much?"

"Of course," Kal says matter-of-factly. He doesn't have any difficulty carrying Bruce into the bathroom, still hard and buried in Bruce's ass. "...I don't suppose we could do that again?"

Oh, dear. Bruce can't help but get the impression that Kal's going to be nothing ssort of insatiable.


	41. Chapter 41

Despite his exhaustion, Bruce lets Kal fuck him twice more that night. The first time, Kal bends him over the edge of the tub and fucks into him until he finishes before reaching down and jerking Bruce off until he cums.

Bruce insists he can't _possibly_ do it again that night, but after they've showered, dressed, and gone downstairs to eat, Kal manages to convince him to go for round three.

After that, Bruce isn't sure his legs are even still working, so he calls a hard stop to any more sexual activity until at _least_ the morning, despite Kal's insistence that Bruce should try things the other way around.

They sleep curled in each other's arms, and Bruce sleeps better then he has in weeks.

It's the next morning when Bruce realizes what he's forgotten. They're just getting dressed (despite Kal's puppy-dog eyes attempting to get Bruce to have sex again) when Bruce spots the core, still sitting out untouched where he first set it down.

"Shouldn't you do something with that?"

"There's not much to do with it, unless I want it to make me a ship," Kal says, turning his head to stare at it. "Or a home."

It's a testament to how relaxed Bruce is that he doesn't stress about it at all. He knows Kal is staying. He knows he's not going to run off.

"I want to see how it works," Bruce points out. "It doesn't have anything I'd expect to see."

"That's because the technology is miles beyond yours. You don't have hard-light projections. From what you've said, you barely have computers. But I can show you."

He retrieves the core and goes to sit on the edge of the bed, and Bruce settles in beside him as Kal holds the core up in front of him. It must be the way he holds it, because the core suddenly springs to life, the surface glowing softly as it goes stationary, hanging in the air even when Kal lets his hands drop away.

 _Things_ pop up in the air like pages in a book, covered in writing Bruce doesn't understand. They fan out, not unlike the cockpit of a plane, and Bruce makes a confused noise, cluing Kal in.

"System, shift to English as the language of operation."

Flawlessly, the system does. One blink to the next, Bruce can read everything. It's overwhelming, and he glances at Kal, who offers him a smile in return.

"It's... projecting light. It's not solid, but... well, feel free to touch one. That would be easier than explaining."

Bruce scans his options and taps _flight path._ He's curious if it will show him a map of Kal's journey from Krypton, and he's not disappointed. His finger passes through the button, but there's resistance there, and the whole experience is slightly surreal.

The map makes it clear just how far Kal's come. The universe is massive, and the scale is so vast that Earth doesn't even appear at the default display.

 _Trip ongoing,_ a message reads at the top. _Remaining time: 00:00._

"It never finished the trip," Bruce points out. "Don't you want to know what happened?"

Kal sighs, leaning forward slightly to address the core.

"Diagnostics. What happened to the ship?"

"Ship encountered unexpected difficulties due to unexplained tidal pull near the Holloke system. The ship's course was redirected, and a lack of resources and a failure to correctly calculate the trajectory of the Earth's moon caused multiple critical system failures. System redirected for passenger safety, causing complete loss of the ship's structure." The voice is direct, maybe even clipped, and speaks in the same accent that Kal does.

"Any further details?"

"Unconfirmed."

"Unhelpful," Kal says with a sigh. "In the end, it doesn't matter. It happened, it's over with, and... maybe it's better not to linger."

He doesn't want to think about it, Bruce realizes. He doesn't want to dwell on the fact that a chance encounter near the Holloke system changed Kal's life forever. Robbed him of the chance to see his parents again.

Kal reaches up, tapping _finish navigation,_ and the screens all vanish.

Apparently that _isn't_ what's supposed to happen, because Kal makes a noise of alarm. The core spins, and then rather than projecting towards them, it instead projects in front of them. It takes a second for the image to snap into focus, but when it does, it's a woman, completely unfamiliar to Bruce but most definitely a Kryptonian, her garb not unlike what Kal wore.

"Lara Lor-Van. My... mother..." Kal says, his voice whisper-soft beside Bruce.

The projection turns, and Bruce realizes that it must be a recording. Probably set to display to Kal when he arrived, only arriving thousands of years late... if not more.

But when the hologram actually glances between them, Bruce lets out a noise of distress.

"That's—"

"No," Kal interrupts. "She isn't alive. She's... she's a projection. A recording."

"She looked at me, Kal. She's waiting for her turn to talk." The whole thing is so lifelike it's actually scaring him, because it doesn't make _sense._

"Only because of the core," Lara says. Her voice is softer than Kal's, more musical. "I'm not really here. Most of my message is a pre-rendered recording, but the core fills in the gaps to make the conversation feel more authentic."

Bruce hates it. A recording would be one thing. This feels more like the ghost of a long-dead woman.

"You have a message?" Kal asks, his voice strained, and the projection nods.

"By now you've arrived safely on your new planet," Lara says, her hands clasped together in front of her. "Your new home. And for that, I have to apologize. Kal-El, you were never intended to return to Krypton."

Bruce's mouth goes dry.

"Your father and I have lied to you. We presented our ideas to the council, but were firmly denied. The council has no desire to reach out beyond the stars. They have no wish for an ambassador to a far-off people. Things have been happening here which we have concealed from you for your own protection, and your father and I believed it was important that you know them once you had safely arrived so that you could understand why we did what we did."

The pieces are coming together in Bruce's mind, the story filling itself out, but he listens anyway with rapt attention.

"The planet's core is unstable. The damage to it is serious enough that it's no doubt past the point of no return. Your father discovered this months ago, along with his partner, Non. They realized that the core would suffer a catastrophic failure before too long, and informed the council. The only way of saving Krypton was to abandon the planet and save the people: a massive evacuation would be difficult, but possible. Another home could be found.

"But the council refused to listen. They told your father that his findings were erroneous. They claimed to have had others attempt to replicate your father's work, but all had failed. Your father knew they were lying, and tried desperately to convey to them the importance of their work. He tried to use only the legal channels, but his partner Non did not."

"I know that name," Kal mumbles, and when Bruce glances over, Kal's eyebrows are furrowed tightly together as he tries to remember.

"You met Non several times in passing while visiting your father's work," Lara explains, alarming Bruce further. "You also heard his name more recently. Non would not keep his silence. He attempted to warn the planet in any way possible, but his research and message were suppressed by the high council. When he became too much of a problem, they lobotomized him, rendering a great scientist unable to even speak. I'm sure you heard of the attempted coup by a section of the Kryptonian military some months ago, led by General Zod. It's a sign of the council's control that you never heard the reason for it: as one of the officers who had first arrested Non, he was aware of his message, and Zod had gone to efforts to confirm them. He learned that Non was correct, and defected in an attempt to ensure that Krypton would survive in some manner."

The more Bruce hears, the more horrified he becomes, and he's hardly alone in it. Kal's expression gets darker and darker as he learns what his parents kept from him.

"Your father convinced the council to spare General Zod and his men, banishing them to the Phantom Zone rather than executing them. He realized a large-scale evacuation was impossible, but also realized that any action he took would be closely watched by the council. It was vital we keep absolutely everyone in the dark, and that included you."

Bruce doesn't know what the _Phantom Zone_ is, but he already hates the sound of it. A prison, maybe?

"That was why your father told you not to mention the ambassador position to anyone before it was approved. That was why, when it was approved, you had to leave immediately without even saying goodbye. The day you're leaving—for me, today—is the point at which your father's measurements indicated we could wait no longer. He estimates the planet will be gone within a week. By the time you arrive on Earth, we will already be gone."

Bruce's heart feels like it's being ripped in two. The truth is somehow so much worse than he imagined: Kal was always going to be alone. He was always going to have lost his parents.

There was no version where he had a chance to say goodbye.

Bruce wraps an arm around Kal's back, pulling him close, and Kal leans against him heavily, his eyes wet with tears.

"Perhaps we could have told you. Your father and I fought about it frequently in these last few weeks. But for us, the most important thing was that you were safe, and both of us feared that you would insist on staying to try and help others. I'm sure many would look back and judge us—claim that what we did was cruel—but for us, it was the only way not just to save you, but to ensure that Krypton wasn't forgotten.

"By the time you get this message, you will be the last son of Krypton," Lara continues, and there's a regal bearing to her as she explains. "But you don't have to be forever. Your father smuggled the blueprints for the Phantom Zone projector into the ship's core. Seventy-eight people were condemned to the Phantom Zone because of the coup. Each of them has been waiting, frozen in time just as you were, to be released."

Bruce understands. Saving Kal was the most important thing to his parents, but it wasn't their only objective. Everything they did was not just to save him, but to save what they could of their planet, even at the cost of their own lives.

"When your ship leaves, your father and I will take the last remaining projectors and do what we can with them. We'll be branded as criminals and traitors, but we won't live long enough to be executed. The projectors we're using cannot take people _out_ of the zone, only put them in, and we'll do everything in our power to transfer as many people as possible to the zone. I have no idea how many people we'll be able to save that way, but your father and I agree that it's the only hope we have."

The plan is, in Bruce's opinion, absolutely perfect. With everything he knows, it's the best-case scenario: it allows some part of Krypton to live on.

It's the answer to everything.

"I could build it," Kal says quietly. "I could bring some of them back?"

Maybe not many. Maybe the second half of the plan failed, and only the general and his men, who were nearly executed for trying to save everyone, will live.

But it's better than what they have: a lone Kryptonian, the last of his kind.

"No matter what happens, Kal," Lara finishes, "please know that your father and I love you. We're so proud of everything you've done, and we know that you'll only get better from now on. We love you, Kal."

The projection fades away, and Kal breaks down into tears.


	42. Chapter 42

The next few days are a strange sort of thing. They're busy, almost impossibly so, but at the same time it feels almost idyllic to Bruce.

Kal is there. Kal is there and Kal _loves_ him, and that hangs over them, coloring everything Bruce does.

Kal spends a great deal of his time working on the device that his mother called the _Phantom Zone projector,_ the thing that will supposedly allow him to pull people out of the Phantom Zone. He spends a great deal of time explaining to Bruce how it all works, but most of it is a step beyond his understanding. What he does understand is simple enough: the Phantom Zone is a space between dimensions where time and space no longer apply the way they do normally.

"I doubt they'd have even aged. For them, probably... no time has passed at all. Or maybe time has passed but they don't perceive it," Kal explains, before shrugging and going back to work.

Bruce deals with the press, because eventually the press _does_ come to call. Too many people have seen him for them to go undetected, so Bruce is simply up front: yes, there is an alien. No, he's not talking about it.

Concerned about intruders, Alfred finds a friend of a friend who's willing to take a great deal of money to provide the manor with some extra security. Bruce is wary of hiring anyone who might want to be around the manor, but the man comes well recommended, and when he catches two people sneaking onto the grounds the same evening he starts, Bruce decides he was worth the money.

Mostly, Bruce tells everyone else to stay away, but when Jacob shows up looking for answers, Bruce feels obligated to fill him in. Jacob's helped a great deal, but he goes pale when Bruce explains what they're doing.

"You're going to bring them _here?"_ he asks, voice filled with alarm. "And they're all as strong as him?"

"No," Kal says, pulling himself away from the projector long enough to clarify. "And yes, most likely."

"In that order?"

"In that order. We're going to wait until the Green Lantern returns, and explain the situation to them. My people have waited... they've waited a very long time. They can afford to wait a few more weeks."

"And what do we expect this Lantern to do?"

"Find a new home," Kal explains. "A second Krypton. Probably not nearby, but... somewhere else, far off in space. Another planet."

Jacob grunts, but at the very least they're not bringing an army of supermen back to stay on _Earth._

"And then you're all going?" Jacob asks, glancing between Bruce and Kal.

Bruce's heart skips a beat, but Kal doesn't even hesitate.

"I was planning to stay here, on Earth. Having contact between our peoples would be ideal on both sides. There's much we can learn from you, and much we can share in turn."

Bruce doesn't doubt that. The more he learns about Krypton, the more he realizes that their technology is miles above humanity's. It's downright incomparable. Krypton has hard light holograms and _artificial intelligence_ and seemingly without thinking, Kal had the core make a slate the size of a very thin book and it seems to have more computing power then every computer on earth.

But it goes the other way, too. Kal's people are at a cultural dead end, stagnant for years and stubborn to the end. They have a lot to learn to break out of their shell, and Earth has a massive amount of cultural variety that Bruce knows can help.

There's other advantages, too: the war has ground to a halt as every country on Earth waits to see what's going to happen. It's impossible to focus on fighting each other when their eyes are on the sky, waiting for an alien fleet that isn't actually coming.

Bruce is hoping the cultural exchange will go both ways, and he's hoping it'll force the war into an early end.

And if it doesn't?

Well, they can deal with it then.

The first week he's there, Alfred insists on having the tailor in and buying Kal a full wardrobe's worth of clothes. Out of his Kryptonian garb, he passes for completely human, and since no one's yet managed to catch a photo of him, he has a chance to explore Gotham with Bruce.

Bruce wants to show him everything. He wants Kal to see life as he sees it. He takes him to plays, and even to the movies. They go out for dinner, and Bruce feels an illicit thrill at the realization that they are, in fact, _dating,_ even if no one knows just yet.

Kal finishes the projector inside of a week, and then it's just a matter of waiting.

For Bruce, the weeks they wait are some of the happiest of his life, and going to bed every night with Kal at his side only makes it better.

It's been almost three full weeks when he gets the call from Jacob.

"Your friend's here," he grunts into the phone. "Can you tell him to go straight to the manor next time? Every time he shows up, the whole base grinds to a halt while everyone stares."

"I'll let him know," Bruce replies. He wasn't expecting to see him more than once more, but now? Well, now they're going to be in much closer contact, assuming everything goes well. "If you'd like, give him our direction and I'll send Kal up to meet him."

It's a lot easier than flying over to the base, and Abin Sur apparently offers no objection, because he meets Kal in the sky over the manor a few minutes later. The descend down to ground level so that Bruce can be included in the conversation, something that Bruce appreciates even if it isn't necessary.

"Kal-El says that he has a way to bring back at least some Kryptonians? Do you know how many?"

"We haven't the slightest," Kal admits. "At least seventy. How many more after that is... unclear."

"Upper estimate?"

Kal looks to Bruce, who shrugs. He knows as much as Kal, which is realistically very little.

"I can't imagine more than two or three hundred."

"A whole planet might not be in the cards, but a section for them to settle on might be better. Ungara—my home planet—may even be able to make room for them. I assume you would like them to remain within sector 2814?"

"Assuming that's here," Bruce says, "then yes."

"2814 is the sector of space this planet is within, yes. It's the territory I've been assigned to patrol." Abin Sur is professional, but there's a flicker of pride when he mentions his assignment. "I could speak to my people and see if room could be made. If I can make a suggestion: use the device you have now, and withdraw one person from this Phantom Zone of yours. That person would give us a better understanding of what to expect, and let us more convincingly plead the Kryptonian case to Ungara."

Bruce looks to Kal, who looks to him in turn. He doesn't see any issue with that plan, but he's also not the one who gets the final say in things.

"I think we can give it a try," Kal finally says. "Should we do it now?"

They set up on the manor's back lawn. Alfred comes down to join them, greeting Abin Sur politely and offering him some treats which he opts to try while they wait. The projector Kal has made is a large machine, but he moves it easily, setting it out on an open piece of grass.

"Is there going to be any danger in this?" Alfred asks, standing nearby. Bruce can't tell if he's worried about them or the grass, but Kal's shrug can't be encouraging. "Perhaps I should step back then." Alfred gives Bruce a pointed look, and Bruce cracks a smile and takes a nice big step back.

The machine doesn't require a massive amount of power the way Kal's first device did. There's no signal to send, beaming out among the stars. All the power is derived from the ship's core, and the entire system is perfectly silent as Kal activates it. Bruce isn't even sure it _is_ working until the air in front of the projector flickers, shimmering and _changing._ It's like the page of a book is being folded back to show what's underneath, only it's reality itself that's folding out of the way.

A figure appears in the fold, and the moment their feet hit the ground, Kal turns the projector off. The hole in reality simply _stops existing_ the moment he does, leaving one lone man there. He's fallen to his knees, but even then Bruce can tell he's a big man—at least as large as Kal himself, and dressed in what Bruce can only assume is armor.

He seems to be breathing heavily, and Bruce keeps his distance as Kal carefully approaches, his strides careful and measured.

The new arrival looks up, and Bruce takes in his features. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a beard that's not unlike Bruce's own. The armor has another symbol on it in a similar shape to the one on the Kryptonian garb that Kal is once again wearing, but the shape is a different one. A different high house, if what Kal's told him is accurate.

The man says something in Kryptonian, and Bruce recognizes only a few words. _El_ is clear enough, but the tone is enough to clarify to Bruce what's happening. At first he's indignant—and then, when he sees Abin Sur, his expression flickers between confusion and rage. He's no doubt demanding an explanation when he turns back to Kal, and Bruce regrets not being able to understand Kal's response.

"You can't understand them, can you?" Abin Sur asks, and Bruce shakes his head as Kal endeavors to explain to the man. "That man is General Zod, the first criminal banished to the Phantom Zone. From what I'm getting, he has quite a grudge against Kal's family, because it was Kal's father who banished him."

Oh. Bruce feels a flicker of concern, but opts to let Kal handle it. One way or another, this is Kal's business. Kal's the one who has to handle it. It's not quite an argument he's watching, but it's something like it. The man—Zod, apparently—is angry. He's arguing with Kal despite Kal's attempts to explain to him what's happening.

And then it happens. Zod's expression drops, and even without any sort of translation from Abin Sur, Bruce knows what happened: Kal's just told him that Krypton is gone. That everyone he knows and loves and left behind is dead.

It devastates him, and Bruce finds himself looking away, unwilling to look at someone else's pain like that.

It feels private. It feels like he's peeking in someone's windows, watching some sort of family drama. Apparently he's not the only one, because Alfred's also looking away. It takes a long time before Bruce is drawn back to the present, only dragged back by Kal and the general striding over to them.

"Sorry about that," Kal says, turning back to the general and saying something else in Krpytonian. Bruce catches his name—it's hard to miss—and then the general offers him a little nod of his head before turning to Abin Sur.

"I need to learn Kryptonian, apparently," Bruce mutters under his breath as the two continue. Kal notices, turning his head and offering Bruce a smile.

"I'll teach you. I think it would help if you could understand. The ship can teach them English, but... it takes time."

"Because it's your ship?"

"Because it was tuned to me, yes. And it's easier if you're still young."

Bruce can only half follow the conversation—even when he's speaking to the general, Bruce hears the Lantern's words as English—but he can follow along enough. He understands what Abin Sur is offering, and a nod is hard to miss.

Then the General turns to Kal, and whatever he asks makes Kal's expression darken. He shakes his head, and there's a short—mercifully, mercifully short—argument.

And then it's over, and the general turns back to Abin Sur, who's already preparing to leave, creating a green bubble around the Kryptonian to carry him up into space.

Bruce waits until they're gone before he turns to Kal for an explanation.

"He wanted to bring the projector with him and do it there."

"And you said no." It isn't a question: Kal's response was clear enough, even in Kryptonian.

"I wanted it to be here. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe it's a risk. But when they come through... they'll be powerless, at least for a while. They won't be a risk. And I..." Kal hesitates, his eyes dropping, and then he shakes his head. "I want it to be here."

Bruce understands, in a strange way. Earth is Kal's home now: he's adopted it the same way that Alfred adopted him. He wants his people's return to happen on _his_ terms, in _his_ home, not on a far off planet he's never been to.

"I think it could help," Bruce says. "I think... I think it would change a lot. I think knowing that we're part of a greater whole might... might help people focus on what really matters."

At the very least, Bruce thinks it's worth a shot, and when Kal wraps his arm around Bruce's shoulders, he knows he's made the best choice possible.

The trouble is just going to be convincing everyone else to go along with it.


	43. Chapter 43

It's been three months since the signal first started broadcasting when humanity makes formal contact with alien life.

The Ungaran ships descend into Earth's lower atmosphere in full view, spiraling downward towards their objective. They come not as invaders, but as guests; when they land, it's on a specially prepared lawn in the center of Washington DC. They disembark to fanfare and heavy security. While the world might be willing to accept them, that doesn't mean that everyone is happy with the state of affairs. Some see it as an invasion, even if the Ungarans come unarmed and undefended as a show of good faith.

Personally, Bruce suspects that no weapon on Earth could actually damage the Ungaran ships. They don't seem as advanced as the Kryptonian technology that Bruce has seen, but they're still miles above anything Earth can put out. The technology in one single ship would be enough to advance them decades.

But it's the idea of it. The _idea_ that they've come in peace.

A small legion of ambassadors are there to greet them. Ambassadors not just from America, but from all the countries who chose to send one. Countries at war with one another stand almost shoulder to shoulder to greet the new arrivals.

It was a compromise. The _original_ plan was for America to handle everything, and it took Kal putting his foot down to convince them that it wasn't acceptable. The new plan forces cooperation. Any country unwilling to play ball with the rest finds themselves shut out from an opportunity to interact with the Ungarans, and no one's willing to lose that chance.

It's stunningly effective, and Bruce is proud of what it's done. The war isn't over, but it's ground to a halt. No one's willing to risk being seen as the aggressor in front of the new arrivals, and there are more important things to focus on. Germany still bangs their drums regularly, implying they'll act again soon, but they still haven't.

Bruce doubts they will. If the Nazis aren't willing to play nice, someone else will be.

There's a lot of greeting and hand shaking all around. Officially, Bruce has no real status. He isn't an ambassador, and there's no name or rank for him. He's just a civilian, but he's the only civilian on Earth who knows any Kryptonian, and the one most familiar with the situation. Abin Sur seems to like him well enough, deferring to Bruce on Earth matters frequently enough to irritate the people who _are_ supposed to be in charge, and that affords him a special status in itself.

There's a large dinner once the greetings are over. The food is an eclectic mix of things chosen by Abin Sur to meet their dietary needs, and the Ungarans have brought some food of their own. Bruce tries it all out of sheer curiosity, even though he knows he likely won't get many opportunities to eat it again.

The German ambassador seems to pay particular attention to him, and midway through the meal the man gets an opportunity to lean in and pass the message Bruce was expecting. It's simply enough—hardly more than a few words—but the intent is clear: watch your back.

Bruce doesn't bother suppressing the laugh that bubbles up, sending the man reeling back in apparent confusion at Bruce's reaction.

Apparently word hasn't gotten to Germany that Bruce has the world's greatest bodyguard.

The meal is winding down when Kal pulls Bruce away, and they retire into the back of the building that's hosting the event. Zod's there waiting by the door for their arrival, his expression grim.

This is the real reason they're having the gathering at all. The Ungaran ships stand empty outside, waiting for passengers that may not come. There's no telling how many Kryptonians they'll manage to save, which means many of those ships might very well return home empty.

It's a sobering thought.

Bruce tries to put it out of his mind as they enter the large hall where the Phantom Zone projector rests. The hall itself has been emptied out of any furniture, leaving a wide open space and plenty of room.

Bruce doubts they'll fill it, but there's room for a thousand people to cram in. As Kal works to set things up with Zod's oversight, Bruce takes a moment to remind himself that they've _already_ succeeded. Just bringing Zod out doubled the number of Kryptonians. Just saving one person made a difference. Even if Kal's parents failed—even if the only people in the Phantom Zone are Zod's people—it's still something. It's still more than they could have hoped for when Kal first learned what happened to Krypton.

It's a new chance. A fresh start.

And when Kal turns on the projector, Bruce's heart is in his throat.

Zod approaches the portal to wait for people to come through, while Bruce and Kal stand by the projector. Bruce knows how it works in case Kal needs to help Zod with the new arrivals, but Bruce doubts he'll be needed. They have everything down to a science, and when the first person steps through the portal, he gets to see it in action.

They're a soldier, without question. Their armor is almost the same as Zod's, with a few things different that Bruce guesses probably indicate rank. The soldiers, of course, are the easiest: they went into the portal knowing the situation, and Bruce expects that they'll be happy just to have survived at all. Zod steps up, greets them, and moves them out of the way, making room for a second and then a third soldier. They come at a steady rate, one by one, and things are kept neat and orderly.

Bruce counts them out, one by one. With Zod already out, seventy-seven people remained in the Phantom Zone, and every person who appears from the portal drops that number by one. It's a countdown to what Bruce feels is the main event. Seventy-eight soldiers isn't going to be enough to restart Krypton. If only the soldiers survive, they'll be a small, largely dead culture. But if Kal's parents succeeded—if they saved more people—Krypton has a chance.

When the last soldier steps through, Bruce holds his breath. He isn't the only one. Beside him, Kal is perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the portal, waiting with bated breath to see if someone is going to come through.

The moment the outline begins to appear, Bruce feels tears form in the corner of his eyes. Even if it's just one person, it's still an immense relief. It means Kal's parents succeeded, at least in some small way. It means there's more. Every person who comes through is a life rescued, and when Kal's hand finds Bruce's own, Bruce gives it a firm squeeze of reassurance.

Kal is thinking the same things.

The first Kryptonian civilian to come through is an older woman, who stares around the room in absolute confusion. One of the soldiers steps up, ushering her out of the way, and she goes without protest, too confused to offer any.

The second and third come together, almost side by side, and Bruce gets the impression that the projector is spitting people out as they went in, a theory that is only strengthened as more and more start to come out. The soldiers came out neat and orderly, but at times the rate of civilians is so high they're actively falling over each other. At one point Zod even has to wade in, grabbing people and pulling them out of the way to clear the space.

"Should we stop it?" Bruce asks quietly, and Kal shakes his head.

"I'm not sure how restarting it would work," he admits. "We might have a long gap. Better to... to just get it all done."

Bruce loses count around one hundred and twenty. The rate they're coming out is simply too erratic, and it's all Zod and his men can do to get people out of the way, moving them into other parts of the room.

He estimates they reach three hundred people before things start to slow down. People are still coming through, but there are fewer of them, and the gaps between them are longer and longer. Kal gives Bruce's hand one final squeeze, and then pulls his hand free to lean over the projector, inspecting some readouts.

"I think we're nearing the end," he admits. "I'm not... one hundred percent clear I understand the readings, but that's what it looks like."

"It's a good number already," Bruce points out. He's happy with it, and it seems that Kal is too. He doubts Zod will be, but that's simply the difference in perspective. For Zod, every person who doesn't make it is a life lost. For Kal and Bruce, all those lives were already lost—and every person who appears is a life saved.

They watch as the numbers become fewer and fewer. The gaps between the new arrivals continue to lengthen. A minute passes by without anyone, and then a trio fall through together. Three minutes pass after them, and then a single man arrives.

"How long do we wait?" Bruce asks quietly. "How do we know when it's done?"

"We just leave it open," Kal says. "Until... until we know for sure. I don't want to leave anyone behind."

Zod has spoken little of his time in the Phantom Zone, but what he _has_ said makes it clear enough that the entire experience was deeply unpleasant. Long before they had set anything up, they'd agreed to destroy the technology the moment the Phantom Zone was emptied. The risk of an empty, costless prison that holds its prisoners for eternity is simply too great, even if it turned out to be Krypton's salvation.

Minutes tick by. The last arrivals are being briefed, and all around them, people are crying. The civilians have all emerged oblivious, ignorant to what had happened to Krypton, and even if Zod is waiting for them all to be there to tell the truth, it's clear that something has gone terribly wrong. Many of them recognize the general, recoiling from him with fear as his soldiers herd them away from the projector.

The minutes continue to tick by. It's been hours since they started, and more than ten minutes since the last arrival when Bruce reaches out, touching Kal's hand. He's tense, staring towards the portal as he waits for any late arrivals, and Bruce rubs a slow circle on the back of Kal's hand.

"I think that's everyone."

"I... what if there's someone else? We could just leave it open. It wouldn't hurt—"

Kal's concerns are legitimate: he doesn't want anyone left behind. But on a more fundamental level than that, Bruce knows how much it all means to him. Every person who comes through is a connection to his world. Every person he sees is someone he might know. 

The portal starts to shift, signaling another new arrival, and Bruce turns his attention to the rapidly forming shape. The person who steps through is a woman, and even if Bruce has never met her, he recognizes her instantly.

He's seen her face every time Kal's played the recording back. Even without that familiarity, though, Bruce suspects he'd have thought she was familiar: she and Kal have the same eyes, after all, and the familiarity is clear enough to him. She hasn't even cleared the portal when a second shape appears behind her, and a man steps out just behind her.

Bruce has never seen him before, but the familiarity there is clear as day. The man has Kal's hair and the same sharp features. They both wear the same crest—the crest of the House of El—on their clothes.

They're Kal's parents, and Bruce can hardly process what he's seeing. Beside him, Kal stands frozen, staring towards the portal, and Bruce is the first to react, tapping Kal's hand to snap him out of it.

"Go," he says. "They're waiting."

Bruce isn't sure if they are. He's not sure if they've even spotted Kal. But it doesn't really matter in the end: they're waiting for him anyway. Everything they did gave them this chance, and when Kal moves towards them, their faces light up with joy.

Frozen for more than a thousand years, the odds that Kal would ever see his parents again were nonexistent, and yet that's exactly what's happening.

Kal gets to see his parents again, and Bruce's heart soars at the realization. There's a bittersweet edge to it, the realization that his own parents are forever gone, but watching Kal embrace them, Bruce allows himself to be happy for Kal anyway.

He doesn't allow himself to think about what it might mean in the long run. He doesn't allow himself to worry. He knows that, no matter what, Kal isn't going to abandon him.

Instead, he mans the projector, watching the flat line of readings. The tank is almost certainly empty, but he lets it keep running anyway, just in case.

He's checking those readings when Kal clears his throat, and Bruce tilts his head up to find Kal beaming down at him, his parents on either side of him. They look... well, they look like a family. A perfectly happy, perfectly normal _human_ family.

"Bruce?" he asks, one arm around each parent, holding them that much closer to him. "There are some people I'd like you to meet."

And Bruce does want to meet them. He wants to know what they're like. He wants to see more of Kal's life, and even more then that: he wants to be a part of it.

He's never wanted anything more in his whole life. Kal completes him, and seeing Kal happy is nothing short of perfection.


End file.
